
f 
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\ 



PICTURES 

FROM 

THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



BY 

" THE ROVING ENGLISHMAN," 

AUTHOR OF "TURKEY/' ETC. 



LOXDON: 

G. ROUTLEDGE & CO. EARRJXGDON STREET- 

NEW YORK: IS, BEEKMAN STREET. 

1S55. 




A 



v 



(1 



DEDICATED 



TO 



THE EDITOR OE "THE TIMES/ 5 

OF THE 

SPLENDID ABILITIES, THE CHIVALRY AND HONESTY 

WITH WHICH HE HAS FOUGHT 

THE GOOD FIGHT OF THE PEOPLE. 



" Les revolutions qui arrivent dans ies grands ^tats ne sont point un 
effet du hazard, ni un caprice des peuples. Rien ne reVolte les grands 
d'un royaume comme un gouvernement foible et derange*. Pour la 
populace ce n'est jamais par envie d'attaquer qu'elle se souleve, mais 
par impatience de soufTrir." — (Mem. de Sully, torn. i. p. 133.) "These 
are the words of a great man ; of a minister of state ; and a zealous 
asserter of monarchy. They are applied to the system of favouritism 
which was adopted by Henry the Third of France, and to the dreadful 
consequences it produced." 

Burke's Thoughts on the Causes of the present Discontents. 



Loq. Suggestive little Barber. — "Your 'air's gettin' very thin 
at the top, sir ; p'raps a little of our Milk of Havens " 

Irritable elderly Gextle^iax (prohably an Official). — "Thin at 
the top, you scoundrel ! Do j'ou think I come here to be told of my 
personal defects ? I'll thin your top for you." 

Leech's Sketches of C7taracter. 



PREFACE. 



The author explaius the plan of the present work of fiction. He 
commences with a general apology. He abases himself, and eats 
dirt after a national custom of the BritoDS. He discreetly declares 
his belief in family governments, and expresses much affectionate 
and proper feeling for the noble families of Grey and Elliott. The 
author judiciously calls attention to his prudent veneration for 
hereditary legislation, and some other equally admirable institutions 
of this great and enlightened country. With wise obtrusiveness he 
continues to evince his highly connected admiration for modern 
Bedfords and Lauderdales. He contemptuously refers to the late 
Mr. E. Burke. The author ingenuously asks pardon for any repre- 
hensible and vulgar matter which may have unavoidably crept into 
these reverential pages, and after the most approved fashion of the 
Crimean witnesses, indignantly casts all blame upon some person or 
persons unknown. The author expresses the most highly connected 
and handsome regret for having spoken the truth even as a Shadow. 
He acknowledges this glaring impropriety with contrition and 
trouble of mind. He speculates for a moment on the fearful chance 
which the most cautious writer must always run of incurring the 
vengeance of "the family," but finally hopes to take refuge in the 
utter nothingness of book writers, and to vanish in the eternal outer 
darkness of literary men. The author cursorily mentions Mr. Smith, 
also Pythagoras, but politely and very properly conclude^ with 
enthusiastic praise of the aristocracy, and the hereditary wisdom of 
the British nation. 

" Tenui musam meditamur avena !" 

Anything like a connected and satisfactory history 
of the war up to the present time is altogether impos- 
sible. It would be eyen repulsive : for the language of 
rejoicing oyer Alma and Inkerman would read like cruel 
irony to those who have been bereaved by thousands ; 
to the relatives of those who have been starved to death, 
or who have rotted amidst horrible impurities uncared 



viii 



PREFACE. 



for; who were murdered by medical mistakes or 
official apathy ; and who were buried alive in anger. 
A mere melancholy catalogue of our disasters might, 
indeed, be written, but it would be only harshly 
humbling to our national pride, and ungenerous 
towards the deserving. 

I have rather striven, therefore, to treat only the 
elements of the war, so to say, and collect a few stray 
pages of history which may convey to the reader a 
clearer and more vivid idea of the state of our affairs in 
the East than the dry details of battles and sieges, as 
bloody as useless, or the terrible story of a campaign 
which can only sully our annals and sadden our 
hearts. 

If this object should not appear to the cursory reader 
to have been always kept steadily in view, as in the case 
of the chapters written at Bucarest, I venture to hope 
that others who may accord me more attention will 
appreciate the strong and peculiar local colouring 
which I have endeavoured to throw into them, and give 
me credit for having at least tried to convey matter 
which seemed to me important, and to shed light on 
much that was obscure in the national character and 
manners of our allies, after a fashion as little wearisome 
as possible. 

Such is the plan of the present volume ; and to those 
who may be disposed to carp at it, let me plead in ex- 
tenuation of its many faults and deficiencies, how shame- 
ful to us all is the tale of the war, and how hard and 
painful a task it is to tell it. 

So let me receive that indulgence which any of us are 



PREFACE. 



ix 



entitled to claim who have endeavoured to perform a 
most unwelcome duty, and whose best efforts have not 
been crowned with success. 

It appears, indeed, tolerably clear now, alike to the 
most opiniated official and to the most orthodox believer 
in him, that we know nothing as it ought to be known, 
either about the causes which led to this most unhappy 
w r ar ; why we are engaged in it ; or how we are con- 
ducting the struggle. It is only charitable to assume 
this, for any other supposition would involve too hideous 
an imputation against all parties who have been hitherto 
concerned in it, holding authority. 

Our right hand hath not known the doings of our 
left. Secrecy, mystery, and consequent error have 
paralysed our councils, and disgraced the ancient honour 
of our arms on sea and land. We appear to have 
forgotten that nothing great was ever done by a petty 
system of trumpery and trick, and we are paying the 
penalty thereof. 

Yet we have not gone astray for want of warning. 
For years past the whole country has been crying out 
against the criminal absurdity of a system which, on one 
pretence or another, has contrived to get the whole of 
our Foreign Policy into such a hopeless muddle by con- 
fiding it to the puzzled wits of a few miserable old men, 
who have nothing but the ludicrous claim of their 
peerages to recommend them ; and who, because their 
vagaries were too gross to bear the light, have decreed 
that we should all remain in darkness. 

In truth, the British people at large has cared little 
for Foreign Policy. And the doings of our agents 



X 



PREFACE. 



abroad have usually passed unquestioned because we 
have seldom witnessed any immediate ill effects from 
them, however ill-judged or reprehensible. When we 
consider, however, that the present war, with all its 
attendant evils and wretched prospects, is absolutely 
and entirely the result of our having entrusted the 
serious interests at stake in our Foreign Policy to im- 
proper persons ; when we reflect on the conduct pur- 
sued by Austria, Prussia, and the Northern Courts; 
when we think of the unblushing insult which has been 
just offered to us even by the petty Court of Hanover; 
and when we consider how untrustworthy is usually the 
official information we receive from Foreign countries ; 
how studied and elaborate appear to be the attempts 
made to deceive us into irreparable mischief j we shall 
realise at last the stupendous national injuries which 
have been inflicted on us by our diplomacy, and let us 
hope that our diplomatists, warned by the past, may 
consent to serve us better for the future. 

It must be acknowledged that useful reform is diffi- 
cult, even in so plain and fearful a case as this. Nothing 
but a firm alliance of public men, and that supported 
by the hearty aid of the press and the people, can 
possibly do anything worth doing in this matter. 

Hereditary legislation, with the laws of primogeniture 
and entail, are the real roots of an evil which has 
weakened all the force of the executive government, 
and rendered us abroad contemptible, and factious at 
home. These extraordinary institutions have given to 
certain gentlemen of particular families a power they 
have not been able to wield with prudence or success, 



PREFACE. 



xi 



simply because no laws can make a race of demigods 
out of a race of men. The peers themselves have been 
often a monstrous encumbrance on the land. Their 
crippling debts have deprived labour of its market, and 
local improvements of a hope. They have been allowed 
to possess an influence which has not been conceded to 
acknowledged intellect, and their sons have been com- 
pelled by a silly pride of caste and custom to abstain 
from useful and honourable avocations, that they might 
fasten like a tribe of locusts on the employments of the 
kingdom. 

The true sense and feeling of the country have never 
yet been fairly represented. The peers have noto- 
riously packed the parliament. One of their number, 
who was certainly no statesman, was made the con- 
stant depository of forty of their proxies, because 
every action of his life had been opposed to reform 
as long as it was practicable to resist it. An 
ignorant lord, whose time might be divided between 
the theatre and the gaming-table, might yet dispose 
absolutely of eight or ten votes in the House of 
Commons, to support his narrow views and invete- 
rate prejudices. Suppose an influence so extensive to 
have been acquired by the founder of a noble family, 
or any of his successors, no disgust and abhorrence 
would enable us to withdraw it from the most infa- 
mous possessor. 

Our system would be well if virtue and wisdom 
could be transmitted with heraldic honours; it is 
inconceivably false and dangerous if they cannot. 
Agricultural hamlets of a few houses, all belonging to 



PREFACE. 



some great hereditary landholder as completely as 
his kitchen garden-, have been allowed to return as 
many members of parliament as the most intelligent 
constituencies in the kingdom; as those great com- 
mercial cities which eclipse in importance and out- 
number in population several of the capitals of other 
countries. The liberal professions have been unrepre- 
sented. The great literary thinkers have been unre- 
presented. Many of the most important classes of 
the country have been unrepresented ; and the Press 
— with the solitary exception of the Times — has been 
too much influenced by political parties always to 
speak out. 

No person sees more clearly, or is more ready to 
acknowledge the necessity of a House of Peers pro- 
perly constituted, than the writer of these lines. 
There have been occasions when the House of Peers 
has saved us from great national follies ; and it is 
always a valuable check on the hasty adoption of 
mere popular measures, forced by external pressure, or 
the intrigues of a cabal, through the House of Com- 
mons. But an hereditary House of Peers is a most 
notable absurdity. It is hard to perceive one single 
valid reason for its existence. Many of us may have 
faith in the great national benefit which is conferred 
on a country by vast and solid fortunes ; by a number 
of persons placed in such superiority to circumstances 
that the whole of their lives may be passed in the 
study of the great questions of government, and that 
they may be altogether removed from the vulgar 
cares of meaner men. In a wealthy country, how- 



PREFACE. 



ever, there will always be a sufficiently numerous class 
of such men without our providing for its existence 
by special and unjust laws ; by laws which do violence 
to the best dictates of our nature, and set envy, hatred, 
and division at the hearth of every lord in the land. 

But even if we admit the law of entail to be good 
in certain cases (a question which need not here be 
argued), there is surely no reason why we should 
make the heir a legislator. His fortune will always 
give him sufficient advantages over poorer competitors, 
should he feel a natural disposition for political life. 
But it is utterly incomprehensible that a grave, sensible 
nation like ourselves should set him up at once, nolens 
volens, with crude mind and immature thoughts, to 
rule over us. The most promising youth is apt to 
think more of the stable than the study at twenty- 
one (the age which we fix for the commencement of 
a peer's reign) ; and perhaps not one lad in a hun- 
dred who takes his seat in the House of Lords at that 
age possesses any opinions of the duties required of 
him, and the immense responsibilities of his office, 
save those acquired from his guardian, or perhaps his 
grandmother; with some silly prejudices of rank, and 
a ridiculous idea of his personal importance. No sane 
man can seriously assert or maintain the contrary. 
No national respect for ancient tradition, no adulation 
of rank, however sincere, and it may surely be added, 
no education, however careful, can fit an unripe boy 
to take efficient part in the councils of a great nation. 
If we admit then, as we do most heartily, the immense 
value of a peerage composed of a class of men possess- 



xiv 



PREFACE. 



ing a large stake in the country, and therefore entitled 
to exercise a continued and steady influence over her 
affairs, who cannot be removed by the downfall of 
ephemeral governments or the mere fickleness of 
popular opinion, we maintain that each member of a 
body so important should be invested with his functions 
only for life, and after having shown himself capable 
of duly understanding and performing them; that it 
should be recruited entirely from the most able and 
prominent of our public men; that we may cease to 
blush for our honour of it, and listen to its councils 
with a more devout and implicit belief in their wisdom. 
As long as it is composed as it now is, we must often 
feel disgraced to see an abandoned youth take his place 
among our elders ; while we deprive earnest and expe- 
rienced men of that legitimate influence which should 
be our prudent reward of a life of toil and experience : 
while we exalt the dull and the worthless, or at least 
employ mediocrity when we might command excellence. 

The hereditary legislators, however, good or bad, 
have hitherto dictated our laws ; made and unmade 
our governments; and disposed of every office in the 
state as seemed good to them. They have been able 
to create a system of terrorism which has distracted 
every cabinet with jealousies and disunion, and which 
has made the wisest and most necessary appointments 
impossible. It has rendered the most clear-sighted 
minister powerless to place the right men in the right 
places, because they have been looked upon absolutely 
as private fortunes too large to be given away out of the 
family. 



PREFACE. 



XV 



The question between the aristocracy and the wisdom 
of the country is still the same as that which Burke 
pointed out so pungently to the Duke of Bedford. The 
one party have been swaddled, rocked, and dandled 
into legislators, though it would be uncivil irony to 
say they have often had any merit of their own to 
create respect for them. The other have been obliged 
to show their passports at every step, because at 
every step they have been traversed and opposed. 
Even when they have proved again and again their 
sole title for being useful to their country, still 
neither rank nor toleration has been accorded them. 
The governing Families have sneered at the best 
established claims, and haughtily torn the helm of 
affairs from the hand of a Burke to give it to a 
Bedford or a Lauderdale. 

The governing Families have gone farther than 
this. If any man has been found even among the 
Bedfords and Lauderdales to rest his claim for public 
employment or promotion on the fact of his being 
qualified for it, that man has at once been considered 
an alien and an outcast from the Family. The Greys 
and Elliotts (the Bedfords and Lauderdales of our 
time), have resolutely insisted on complete inefficiency 
and nothingness as the only title to their favour or 
family affection, and none have been thought fit priests 
in the temple of our government, but those who were 
compelled to fly to it for sanctuary. 

Has any young man among them written a book or 
made a speech, evidencing some signs of ability, he has 
been at once thrust contemptuously aside, and marked 



xvi 



PREFACE. 



with a kind of civil proscription; so that public virtue 
has been panic-stricken, and no man has dared to serve 
his country honestly and ably. It has pleased the 
Bedfords and Lauderdales to brand all capacity as 
dangerous to the eternity of the Family government; 
and even those most sternly and righteously indignant 
against them cannot but acknowledge that they have 
conducted themselves wisely according to their lights. 
If efficiency were once made the condition of public 
employment and promotion, their golden inheritance 
would indeed pass away. Yet surely, if hope and 
patience, and toiling long; if the rarest fruits of hard 
study and thorny experience are to avail nothing for 
a man who is so unfortunate as to find himself in 
some subordinate post of the public service when it 
is too late to choose a more grateful and fair career, 
official life is a lie and a deception too sad to contem- 
plate, and the Family government have contrived to 
change those wise and just provisions in human affairs 
which have hitherto been considered among the immu- 
table laws of God. 

It would be well reasoned, however, even for the 
Family to concede something at such an awful crisis as 
the present. For it hath already happened, as all may 
know who care to listen to the burning words echoing 
daily round them, that many are changing into those 
earnest and uncompromising reformers who have 
wrought permanent and extensive changes in the 
world's affairs. The judgment of heaven has seemed 
heavy on the Family for their heartless and selfish 
apathy to the agonised cry of the nation. They have 



PREFACE. 



xvii 



been so stubborn in wrong, their blind pride has been 
so sure a precursor of ultimate and shameful disaster to 
them, that thoughtful men have almost hoped in their 
speedy humiliation, that a long-suffering people might 
be roused at once to a state of sublime anger, and 
arising like a whirlwind in its wrath, sweep this pitiful 
crowd of triflers away before they have accomplished 
our irretrievable ruin. 

Ill does the Family judge of the mournful but deter- 
mined spirit of the times, or they would quail before 
the strong clear intellects of those good and great men 
who are now so calmly and resolutely hostile to their 
corrupt and ignorant misrule. The writing which 
dismayed Belshazzar at his banquet is on their walls, 
but they will not read it. 

They are the rash Radicals, whose abject rapacity, 
whose selfish support of the base iniquity by which 
they are yet allowed to reap an ignoble profit, goads 
the people at length beyond endurance, so that 
there arise popular tumults and grievous civil troubles ; 
while violence snatches scornfully with the strong hand 
far more than was wickedly denied to temperate 
remonstrance. 

Those only are the true and thoughtful Conserva- 
tives, the wise friends of the commonwealth, who are 
now pleading to the Family so passionately for moderate 
reforms while it is yet time; and the gathering 
wrath of the nation may be stilled without their utter 
confusion. 

It is idle for a cunning and interested family clique 
to strive to brand such men with the dark charge of 

b 



XY1U 



PREFACE. 



sedition. God forbid, they say in all sincerity of heart, 
that civil strife should ever be again seen in healthy- 
hearted England. God forbid, that the might and the 
right of the land should ever stand arrayed in arms, 
even against foolish and criminal oppression. The 
determined enemies of the Family may feel an ardent 
attachment to the throne, a deep respect for much in 
our constitution that is sound in principle, and most 
excellent in practice ; but they may have yet to learn 
that the warmth of their loyalty to the Queen, or their 
reasoning admiration for the British constitution, can 
be fairly made a pretext to require their tacit toleration 
of the eternal jobbery and insolent dictatorship of these 
modern Bedfords and Lauderdales. The jobbers call 
themselves, indeed, friends of the constitution; but it will 
be very hard for them to show how the furtherance of 
their private interests has become necessary to its safety. 

The men who are now advocating reforms of such 
notable necessity may yield to none in devoted patriotism, 
and a rooted aversion to violent measures. We may 
hearken with generous trust to their indignant protes- 
tation against the clap-trap charges which the Family 
have so often dared, in the face of all evidence and 
common sense, to hurl at them. For there is surely a 
wide distinction between political fanaticism and a 
righteous opposition to the dangerous misguidance and 
incompetency of Greys and Elliotts. A complete 
esteem for many of the public men of England is per- 
fectly compatible with a stern contempt for those whose 
official rank is only a mask for folly, and a charter for 
corruption. 



PREFACE. 



xix 



And so before any among us cavil at the honest out- 
speaking of such reformers, let us ask ourselves if the 
charges against the Family are not fairly proved. If 
they are, would it have been wiser that such startling 
truths should have been hidden, so that we might have 
rambled on over flowery falsehoods, till the hidden 
abyss devoured us, and counsel would have been useless, 
help impossible ? Surely it is by the rejection of mode- 
rate advice that the true Radicals of a country are at last 
unveiled; and the judicious men who have been trying 
so long to convince them of the evil of their ways, 
stand aghast at the terrible end of their wilful im- 
prudence, a 

Let us away then for ever with those haughty class 
follies and prejudices which have so domineered over us, 
and made us set wisdom and energy at nought for 
titled nonsense. Let us make at last a civil but deter- 
mined stand for our rights as a nation, and our rights 
as individuals. Let all be free to labour in the public 
service, who can show cause. If our government was 
carried on openly and fairly, our places would not be so 
advantageous or highly paid, that we need fear too 
great a crowd of applicants. When the condition of 
obtaining every post became absolutely that of special 
fitness, no man who was not perfectly aware of his 
aptitude and capacity would venture to enter the list of 
the aspirants. 

The want of able special men has caused most of our 
late miseries in the East. Our curse has been our 
ignorance. At the outbreak of the present war we knew 
next to nothing about the vast empire of the Turks. 

b 2 



XX 



PREFACE. 



We were curiously ignorant of its strength or its weak- 
ness. Asia Minor, except the immediate neighbour- 
hood of Smyrna and the Seven Churches, was as un- 
known to us as Mongolia ; and Roumelia as completely 
a terra incognita as Kochan, or the territory of the 
Oosbegs, beyond the Hindoo Coosh. 

We were absolutely unacquainted with the nature 
of the climate, the produce, and the resources of 
Turkey. We knew nothing of the state of the 
roads there, or the perils of the seas. We had no 
reliable information respecting the social state, or 
the local custom and government of its extensive 
provinces. f 

Hence the sufferings of our armies at Gallipoli and 
Varna. Hence the fearful wrecks in the Black Sea, 
which might have been predicted with positive cer- 
tainty by any observant inhabitant of the coasts which 
witnessed the destruction of the Prince, and the loss of 
the winter clothing of our troops; which might have 
been foretold to us or averted by any Greek pilot, had 
we dared to employ him after the results of our cul- 
pable and self-willed folly had made him such a deter- 
mined enemy. Hence the mishaps which have been 
felt so heavily by our devoted legions before Sebastopol. 
Had we deigned to use the information, accessible as it 
was, which we required, we might have been saved 
from this deep national humiliation and disgrace — from 
the needless shedding of our best blood — from the 
wanton sacrifice of our youth and veterans by unfore- 
seen disease, and from the idle waste of such mountains 
of treasure. It is said that our last two wars only cost 



PREFACE. 



xxi 



one thousand millions — but who shall say what may be 
the price of this one ? 

This state of things, however, deplorable as it is, may 
be easily explained. It was scarcely possible to travel 
with safety or advantage in Turkey, unless clothed 
with high official rank, and then the dearly-bought 
experience of the traveller was left to moulder amid 
the dusty records of the Foreign Office, after having 
merely become part of the opposition capital of the 
minister who resigned office last week, and the Under 
Secretary who was superannuated yesterday. The few 
adventurous spirits who, like Sir Lawrence Jones, 
were rash enough to underrate the difficulties in the 
way of enterprise in this direction, fell victims to their 
necessarily imperfect knowledge of the state of these 
countries, and perished by the felon shot of some 
Zebeck or Albanian bandit. 

Even our consuls, who should have possessed among 
their archives, and the living stores of their own expe- 
rience, all the information which we so imperatively 
required, failed us most notably. They failed us, because 
they had not been chosen for their attainments and 
knowledge of Eastern affairs, or from men who had given 
proofs in other careers of the intellect and observation 
necessary to fit them for their posts ; but from among 
the wild sons of noblemen's stewards, or tradesmen, 
who had mismanaged their affairs, and had thus suc- 
ceeded in interesting powerful and compassionate 
patrons in their behalf. Our consular service, and our 
diplomatic service, in the East and elsewhere, proved 
alike useless in the day of our need. It was a useless 



xxii 



PREFACE. 



pageant, or a deliberate imposition, and the result 
might have been foreseen. It is melancholy at such a 
time as this to cast a glimpse at the Foreign Office List, 
and observe the names of the gentlemen who are occu- 
pying the most important of our appointments abroad 
(especially those who are conducting our negotiations 
in the war countries) , and choking up, as it were, every 
road by which a peaceful and honourable end of the 
Turco- Russian dispute might have been attained. Of 
the shocking intemperance of Sir Hector Stubble, at 
Dahomey — of his indecent lecturing the helpless Sul- 
tan — his gala-day visits to the hospitals — his costive 
ill-temper and curious unfitness for his post — enough 
has been said. In the important neighbouring state of 
Timbuctoo is our vivacious, elderly acquaintance, Lord 
Fiddle-de-dee — and that frolicsome nobleman has been 
allowed chiefly to mismanage the incomprehensible 
negotiations which are always failing there so deplo- 
rably. 

When the press ventured to suggest that his lordship 
was not precisely the proper person to be employed on 
a business of such moment, the governing Family were 
up in arms. The press, they said, were not fairly 
treating a public evil — honestly exposing a great 
national danger, that we might remedy it in time — but 
waspishly carping at a private wrong. It was also an 
enemy to the polite science of music in his lordship's 
person, and vulgarly illiberal, and unjust generally. 
(i Whence/' they cried, " this morbid hatred of Fiddle- 
de-dee ? n but, as said that pleasant parson, Sidney 
Smith, their question appeared to be stolen from Pil- 



PREFACE. 



xxiii 



pay's fables : " A fox/' says Pilpay, " caught by the 
leg in a trap, near the farm-yard, uttered the most 
piercing cries of distress : forthwith all the birds of the 
yard gathered round him, and seemed to delight in his 
misfortune ; hens chuckled, geese hissed, ducks quacked, 
and chanticleer, with shrill cock-a-doodles, rent the air. 
' Whence/ cried the fox, limping forward, with infi- 
nite gravity, ' whence this morbid hatred of the fox ? 
"What have I done? — whom have I injured? I am 
overwhelmed with astonishment at these symptoms of 
aversion ? * ' Oh, you old villain/ the poultry 
exclaimed, i where are our ducklings ? — where are 
our goslings ? Did I not see you running away yes- 
terday with my mother in your mouth ? Did you not 
eat up my relations last week ? You ought to die the 
worst of deaths, to be pecked into a thousand pieces/" 
The public opinion about Lord Fiddle-de-dee coincided 
so completely with that of the farm-yard with respect 
to the fox, that the governing Family would have given 
him up at once had they been wise. It was idle to 
seek excuses for the misdemeanours of his lordship, and 
mere rashness to defend him, since it can only shorten 
the term still left them for the enjoyment of their 
inheritance, if they trample too heavily on human 
patience. 

The press did not quarrel with their ill-chosen repre- 
sentative on account of his indiscreet rage for music. 
It may fairly be assumed that a busy people would 
have preferred to consign him to complete oblivion. It 
remained, however, for the apathy of the Family 
government at last to suffer him to incur anything 



xxiv 



PREFACE. 



so grave as reproof and anger ; and to become the 
creator of the great Timbuctoo difficulty, which is 
now confusing our national councils. When the 
Family government so far rallied from its homage 
of this great diplomatist, as to comprehend some 
of the dreadful mischief he was creating, we were 
compelled, even in this time of our trouble, to send 
away one of the greatest of our statesmen to the 
rescue. But the evil had already grown too gigantic 
to be hastily struck down — so that he was sent in 
vain. 

In the name of our hearths and altars, let us put 
the axe to this upas-tree at once, and strike at the 
root of the evil we must all deplore. 

Let us away with those disgraceful idols of flunkey- 
ism, the shameful absurdities of hereditary legislation. 
It is the very key-stone of the rotten edifice, beneath 
whose cold shadow no good thing can ripen. It is 
utterly revolting to calm reason and common sense ; 
it is peculiarly opposed to the existence of that ability 
among the governing classes which we have the right of 
self-preservation to require. It is fatal to the permanent 
safety of our best institutions. Until it is changed, 
the most ignorant lord who has waxed fat on the spoil 
of generations of his kindred and their creditors, will 
always find means of coercing the government, and 
making its offices a mere appanage for his relations 
and minions. He will never have more inducement 
than he now has to acquire the proper qualifications for 
office, if he is always unaccountably to be allowed to 
seize on it without ; to neglect its burthen and to reap 



PREFACE. 



XXV 



its profit. Oh, whither shall we drift, indeed, if here- 
ditary incapacity is allowed for ever to guide our 
councils, and tinselled dotage to lead our hosts in 
such a fearful time as this ? 

Surely, that which we ask is not too much : it is but 
honesty in the distribution of the offices of state. This 
is a matter on which our common weal depends. It 
is not an injudicious concession to democracy that 
we advocate, it is the salvation of the liberties of 
mankind. 

I have done. If something of that patriotism to 
which I may venture to lay claim, since I write name- 
lessly and ask none of the vanities of renown, should 
have given too great warmth to my language, the 
large heart of that great generous people, in whose 
cause I have dared to speak, trampling down, as I 
did so, whatever of the prejudices of early education 
might cling to me, and hearkening nothing to the sug- 
gestions of private friendship, and even family affection, 
will not censure me with that bitter misconstruction 
of my motives, which would be the only punishment 
beneath which my firmness would indeed fail. I know, 
however, and shall be prepared to bear unflinchingly all 
that burrlike, petty calumny and odium which inva- 
riably follows those who have presumed to show the 
smallest opposition to the overgrown interests of the 
governing Families. Were I aught but a shadow, I 
might speculate in moments of amused leisure as to 
what would be likely to be the nature of my punish- 
ment, and I might occupy a portion of my time 
advantageously in prepariug courageously to suffer 



xxvi 



PREFACE. 



under such grievous disabilities as that Family have 
influence enough to inflict on all who incur their 
vengeance. 

In the days of the Star Chamber, the Greys 
would have been able to put a contumacious writer 
in the stocks, or to enjoy the pleasure of cutting 
off his ears. Now they are denied this useful advan- 
tage ; but their ingenuity and resources are so wonder- 
ful, they are so well received in good society, that they 
can judiciously harry even a Layard well nigh out of his 
wits with calumny and pungent official jokes, such as 
only they would dare invent or circulate. It was, indeed, 
doubtless, with a prophetic view to the opinions of the 
Greys respecting heretical Britons, dubious of the value 
of their tenets, that Pythagoras told his disciples, who 
were probably sensible men, that " they might as well 
eat their own grandmothers (here clearly indicating the 
Family) as meddle with beans." I shall, however, await 
the effects of their anger, calmly assured that he who 
appeals from a silly outcry to the large sympathies 
of the people never appealed in vain; while he is 
strengthened and supported by the knowledge, that 
if a manly resistance to evil has injured many, obse- 
quiousness and servility to power, violent and intem- 
perate subserviency to the ignorance of authority, and 
obstreperous toadyism of rank, may, indeed, have ad- 
vanced the fortunes of others, but never secured them 
the esteem of one good man. 

We cannot have at once the self-satisfaction of honesty 
with the wages and rewards of shame ; and he who sets 
up in life as a patriot must expect the losses, attacks, 



PREFACE. 



XXV11 



and humiliations to "which, he mil certainly be exposed. 
But human life, as Mr. Smith very justly observed, 
" has been distressingly abridged by the flood it is 
idle, therefore, to waste it by the repetition of such 
truisms as this. 

In now taking leave of my readers, I venture to hope 
for some of the kindness due to an old though unknown 
friend, even when his judgment seems to us at fault. I 
have put my opinions forth with much hesitation and 
sincere deference for the better wisdom and larger views 
of others. I have merely said what I thought, and 
related what I have seen or heard. I am aware that I 
have not taken a fashionable view of the war; but 
I have not spoken ex cathedra. I do not presume to 
expect that any extraordinary weight or authority will 
be attached to my writing which it does not appear to 
claim in itself. No writer, however obscure, has treated 
such subjects as those I have reluctantly touched upon, 
without having to regret that he had unavoidably made 
many enemies in those he would have been proud to 
believe his friends; and estranged some of whom he 
thought with great tenderness and esteem. 

He who wars with Greys and giants, also, must 
expect some knocks. These I await tranquilly, and 
shall find consolation enough for whatever contempt 
may be thrown by them upon this book, by the con- 
sciousness of having toiled earnestly and thoughtfully 
in my trumpery sphere of action, to remedy what 
appeared to me a fearful public evil, the growing dis- 
aster of their rule. 

Let it not be supposed I am advocating the delusion 



xxviii 



PREFACE. 



which is called " Peace at any price;" I am simply 
pleading, that a fair chance should be allowed us of 
negotiating for a wise peace : for I firmly believe it 
to be still easy of attainment. It appears plain to all 
men, however, that our present diplomatists have 
entirely occasioned the present war; and, therefore, 
it surely seems hardly prudent to leave our peace 
conferences to the same rash or feeble men who 
have already wrought us disaster. 

I have now only to ask, with unfeigned humility, 
for the liberal clemency of those who may confound 
my arguments and despise my counsel. 



PICTURES 

FKOil 

THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



CHAPTER I. 

The overture. The British public of 1 853. Sir Hector Stubble in London. 
Dawnings of disbelief in him among the aristocracy admitted to 
his presence. Spread of the heresy. Montenegro. The vladika. 
Omer Pasha. Impatience of Mr. Bull at the proceedings of these 
personages. Solemnly professes his orthodox faith in Stubble. 
Count Leiningen. Austrian demands. Prince Menschikoff. Fuad 
Effendi. Pifaat Pasha. The secret mission. Colonel Pose. 
Alarm of t*he Turks. The fleet. Admiral Dundas. Evacuation 
of Montenegro. Predictions of the far-sighted. The state of 
Europe. The subject nationalities. The first steps of Pussia. 
The Holy Places. Strange conduct of the Turks. Wrath of the 
Czar. The autograph letter. 

At the commencement of 1853, the British public was 
chiefly concerned about emigration schemes of doubtful 
prudence, Mrs. Sidney Herbert and the needle-women ; 
also, about the gold discoveries on the other side of the 
world. Small annuitants went about in much alarm, asking 
each other nervously if a sovereign was really likely to be 
worth a crown a few years hence ; and the small annuitants 
being unable to answer each other, remained aghast and 
trembling. The latest intelligence from California and 
other auriferous regions quite eclipsed the interest of 
dreadful murders, and even of salt cases in the House of 
Lords. 

At this time we were intensely excited on the subject of 
Cochin China fowls ; a monstrous wine-tub at Dieppe 
attracted much attention ; so did the fall of a cliff at 
Dover. 

B 



2 



PICTURES FROM 



If we thought about foreign affairs at all, it was chiefly to 
exchange the most refreshing international compliments. 
The papers talked of Lord Fiddlededee a little loudly, perhaps, 
ior providing gratuitous lodgings in Austrian public build- 
ings to so many British travellers, but otherwise the concert 
of praise was perfectly" harmonious ; so much so, indeed, 
that his Excellency Baron Brunnow, the Russian ambas- 
sador at this court, acquired much popularity, by giving a 
dinner in the palace of the Russian embassy to Mr. Guhitt's 
workmen. This was, of course, very handsome of him, and 
by no means a conciliatory piece of policy on the part of 
his imperial master, who had a notable dislike for throwing 
dust in the eyes of his neighbours, as we all know. 

The only thing of much general importance which we 
were doing abroad, was connected with the international 
copyright question in America. It was fortunate for lite- 
rary men that we were doing this just then, for events were 
coming on likely to put out their lights for one while. 

Then it was the fashion for all persons, but those who 
knew anything of the matter, to express fears as to the 
intentions of the French emperor towards us. They uttered 
wild moanings over the fallen liberties of France, coupled 
with a lively dread of invasion whenever the fancy for mili- 
tary glory should prove too strong for our neighbours. We 
had, of course, long done with the idea of originating 
such nonsense ourselves. We laughed good-hum ouredly 
about Lord Raglan's title, but never dreamed he was going 
to lead us into battle. We chatted about running a railway 
bridge over the Damietta branch of the Nile, but who 
would have thought of making a railway in the Crimea, 
and doing it wrongly into the bargain ? Who would have 
seriously thought about the Duke of Newcastle as a bran 
new minister of war 1 — though, to be frank, we might think 
that Lord Aberdeen was hardly a safe minister of peace ! 

There was, indeed, an uneasy feeling in the minds of 
persons who were well acquainted with the threatening 
state of foreign countries, and the deadly struggle which 
was still going on secretly between the despotisms and 
democracy ; but the most oracular did not as yet predict in 
what direction the storm was likely to burst at last. Not 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



3 



surely upon Turkey, we reasoned, for was not our wise man 
of the East giving a series of dinner parties in Grosvenor- 
square, and laughing General Rose and his despatches to 
scorn, and writing those delightful newspaper articles which 
gave us all so much pleasure 1 To be sure he was, aud very 
pleasant entertainments they were, I dare say ; and they 
tended, as we have seen, vastly to the propagation of truth, 
and so forth, among the aristocracy, who, of course, were 
alone intended to eat the first-mentioned delicacies, or read 
the last. 

The questions before parliament were almost entirely of a 
fiscal nature. Lord Palmerston's wonderful aptitude for 
every department of public business, and his paramount 
influence, his active reforms in all ; his vast English mind 
and genial nature ; his wise and winning courtesies. Mr. 
Gladstone's failures in the exchequer ; the income-tax ; and 
the French emperor's marriage. 

The affair of Montenegro first be^an to create trifling 
differences of opinion among some of the guests at Sir Hector 
Stubble's dinner parties, who now showed a ribald and heretic 
disposition which astonished his butler very much, and 
induced him to think the unorthodox guests above men- 
tioned as altogether unworthy of the high honour which had 
been unhappily vouchsafed to them. The Montenegrins 
were a half barbarous people who dwelt in great ignorance 
on the frontiers of Turkey. They professed to have faith in 
the Greek Church, and they were governed by an uncouth 
sort of potentate who had always shown a keen appetite for 
Russian and Austrian pensions. He called himself a Yladika. 
and was fond of appearing before his subjects with a short 
whip in his hand, while his favourite mode of taking exercise 
was using it over their loyal and submissive backs. 

We pooh-poohed Montenegro, and the vladika, and his 
subjects, and his whip altogether at first. Our wives and 
daughters, always anxious " for some new thing," found it on 
this occasion in Mr. Jovan Ristich's book about Servian lite- 
rature. They learned diligently, and understood little, a 
great deal of knotty information about Yuk and Dosithej. 
In a word, our interest was excited respecting the frontier 
lands of Turkey, and we soon comprehended less about them 

b2 



4 



PICTURES FROM 



than ever. That noble national pride, however, which comes 
to our aid on every occasion, and which is ready for any 
possible emergency and much more, showed us clearly that 
anything we did not know could not certainly be worth 
knowing. " The row in Montenegro is a mere squabble 
among savages ; so, come, let us go to dinner," said Mr. Bull, 
with that Avell-bred impatience which characterises him on 
such occasions, and his Excellency the Right Hon. Sir 
Hector Stubble patted him condescendingly on the back 
as he said so, and ate of the loaves and fishes in all the 
luxury of amused and amusing leisure. 

Nevertheless, the Turks appeared unaccountably excite- 
able on the subject, and the good humour of the Emperor 
of Russia and his agents in many places increased daily. 

Outer Pasha now made his bow to an admiring world in 
the character of a public personage. He and some other 
pashas marched against our new acquaintances the Monte- 
negrins with 50,000 Turks. He outnumbered the enemy 
in this way, but he did not vanquish it, which was probably 
why he soon began to acquire a military reputation almost 
as great as that which was afterwards to be given, together 
with the title of field-marshal, to Lord Raglan. 

Omer Pasha wished to make short work of the Monte- 
negrins, for the Turks knew very well that they could never 
do anything without being snubbed and overlooked; so they 
reasonably dreaded the interference of the Christian powers 
as much on this occasion as upon others. The Montenegrins, 
however, hastily despatched emissaries to Vienna and 
St. Petersburg, imploring the protection of the Kaiser and 
the Czar. 

The mission of Count Leiningen followed, but fortunately 
Sir Hector had not yet terminated his series of dinner 
parties to select members of the aristocracy of England. 
Pie had not either yet returned to Constantinople, so that 
the storm passed by and we had no war with Austria. 

It was at the beginning of March that the news from the 
East first grew serious. Prince Menschikoff had arrived at 
Constantinople on the 28th of February; on the 2nd of 
March he had an audience with the Sultan, in contempt of all 
diplomatic courtesies; and on the 3rd, Fuad Efi'endi, the 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



5 



Turkish Minister of Foreign Affairs, resigned office, from a 
sense of the insults which had been offered him. Bifaat 
Pasha succeeded. The Russian ambassador was heard to 
express his disapprobation of the moderate demand and 
friendly departure of Count Leiningen. He declined to 
state the object of his own mission, and then General Rose, 
on demand of the grand vizier, who was growing greatly 
alarmed, took the prudent precaution of writing an expla- 
natory note to Admiral Dundas, and requested him to bring 
his fleet into the ^Egean. Had this communication received 
the attention to which it was entitled, events might have 
taken a different turn ; but the gallant Whig admiral had a 
keener Whig appetite for place than judgment to fulfil its 
duties ; and indeed, afterwards quarrelled with Mr. Layard, 
and made a great noise in the newspapers for this very 
reason. Meantime the Turks had taken very good care to 
evacuate Montenegro. Omer Pasha had retired to Albania, 
the other pashas elsewhere, and the war was at an end, 
the Turks obtaining, as we have said, only a questionable 
success. 

Notwithstanding the peaceful ideas of the brisk British 
admiral, however, the political horizon did not grow clearer. 
Far-sighted folk had long seen that a war was imminent. 
There had been an insurrection at Milan — an attempt on the 
life of the Emperor of Austria. M. Kossuth had issued a 
manifesto to the Hungarians in Italy. France was the 
centre of many intrigues at home and abroad. The demo- 
crats in Prussia were restless. England had strengthened 
her coasts in consequence of the solemn advice of her last 
great military chief. All Europe was indeed armed to the 
teeth, and ready for a spring. The subject nationalities 
talked of the downfall of tyrants. The retrograde party 
spoke of a crusade against England and the constitutions. 
War seemed inevitable for all, and for some a necessity. 

Russia was the first to move forward. Her long- cherished 
schemes against Turkey were at last ripe. If the war in 
Montenegro was really at an end, still she could talk indig- 
nantly about it ; and, if any other excuse should be wanting, 
there was, at Jerusalem, a squabble among some obscure 
priests about the repairs of a church, which would not want 



6 



PICTURES FROM 



repairing for five years ; also about a worthless robbery of 
relics, which had been committed by some of them. This 
would make a capital case, and could be dignified with the 
name of the question of the Holy Places. This would do 
admirably, for the Turks, who understood nothing whatever 
of the matter, had made the same concessions to both 
parties, so that the priests were frantic with rage and jea- 
lousy. The Porte tried to pacify them by appointing com- 
missions and granting firmans without end, but the dispute 
raged the more fiercely, owing to the delight and astonish- 
ment of the priests that anybody should pay the smallest 
attention to them. Directly they found that their antics 
were attracting the general observation, they raved as if for 
a wager. 

The Czar pretended to grow angry, and wrote a short note 
to the Sultan, requesting him to resign the home govern- 
ment of Turkey into the hands of the Russian ambassador. 
The Sultan would, indeed, have assented to this, or anything 
else for a quiet life, but there were people in Turkey who 
would not let him. Besides, the Russian ambassador cour- 
teously said that he would await the arrival of Lord Strat- 
ford before proceeding with his negotiation. It appears to 
me that he was waiting upon events ; and they — they — they 
were seducing us all every day deeper and deeper into a ter- 
rible scrape. So Russia began to muster her forces and pre- 
pare her commissariat, seemingly for no good. 



CHAPTER II. 

The drama opens. A stray page of history. 

There is a great council sitting on the banks of the Bos- 
phorus. The long hours of a bright summer day have rolled 
silently on, and the night is already far advanced ; but it 
shows no signs of breaking up. The gilded caiques of the 
great dignitaries of the empire still remain moored along the 
quay, and the more modest boats of the lesser pashas still 



THE BATTLE FIELD?. 



continue to glide noiselessly through them and discharge 
their occupants, who pace, with measured step and thoughtful 
looks, through the palace portals. JSTow and then there is a 
slight stir among the boatmen and servants, who are waiting so 
wearily outside. It is when the plain swift boats shoot rapidly 
up, which bear those important and excitable Levantines, 
who have contrived to obtain the extremely convenient berths 
of dragomen to the foreign embassies. It would be amusing 
at any other time to notice the lofty humour of these fellows ; 
how scornfully they elbow the most dignified Turks, and how 
they take advantage even of this awful moment to insult 
them sorely. What low-bred ignorance, what untimely pre- 
tensions they show ! But the fate of a great empire is at 
stake, and we, at least, will not smile while the momentous 
game is being played out. 

A rustling of robes and a louder hum of voices is at last 
making itself heard through the open windows, and comes 
gratefully to the ears of the listeners beneath. The council 
is breaking up. The caidjis begin to unmoor their boats, 
and the tired servants stretch their weary limbs. Bicketts, 
the newspaper correspondent, so snubbed by the embassies, 
is waiting for the Turkish Minister oi Foreign Affairs to tell 
him the result of the council. The embassies will be making 
a mystery for months of the news, which Mr. Bicketts will 
send off by to-morrow's post to all Europe. The waiting 
crowd, however, must have patience a little longer ; for just 
at this moment a caique rows up with the speed of an arrow. 
A small fussy man springs on shore and runs through the 
palace gate. As he disappears there is a murmur that he is 
the first interpreter of the British embassy. 

On trots the little man, through gardens and galleries ; 
through conservatories fragrant with the perfume of rare 
flowers, and fresh with the coolness of fountains which 
sparkle in the shade like living things ; on, past mutes, 
bearing trays of coffee, sweetmeats, sherbet, and water ices ; 
and past others swaying lighted pipes, with costly mouth- 
pieces of richly-jewelled amber ; and others, bearing napkins 
of scarlet velvet, embroidered with gold, upon their left 
shoulders. These mutes are the only persons who are 
allowed by the grim guards to pass into the council cham- 



8 



PICTURES FROM 



ber ; but even they will find means to show the wicked non- 
sense of closed doors and secresy in affairs, for they will be- 
tray the little man in mockery of it. 

He enters the room where the council is just breaking up, 
and his mere presence makes every one constrained and un- 
easy. But the little man is conscious of the extent of a 
power and authority which should never have been confided 
to him. He loves importance, and he knows that he speaks 
in the honoured name of mighty England. He delivers his 
message in a harsh insulting tone in consequence. 

Two hours afterwards a mute betrayed that message by 
signs to the Russians, and its purport the world may now 
learn during long and bloody wars. Its immediate effect 
was best known by the instant departure of Prince Mens- 
chikoff. He left in a whirlwind of execrations, and the 
suite of the Russian ambassador insulted the British em- 
bassy in the streets of Pera. 

Secret diplomacy, mines and countermines, ambassadorial 
dignity, private piques, jealousy, mistakes, ignorance, and 
want of counsel had all been at work, and here was the end 
of them ! A little openness and common sense, a little 
courtesy and good will, would have made all well, and might 
still remedy the mischief, though the plot is now thickening, 
and rage is in the heart of the Russian. 

As for the Turks, they have been so bought and sold, and 
intimidated, that they have lost all heart. The council- 
chamber is a melancholy scene of disunion and petty intrigue. 
Every man fancies he knows the price at which his neigh- 
bour has been bought, — some calculate if it would be worth 
while to sell themselves for the same. There is no concord 
or political honesty, little hope, and much confusion among 
them. Many ask each other in whispers, if Russian rule 
would really be much worse than the eternal brow-beating 
and humiliating insolence of some half dozen ill-bred Levan- 
tines, — all they know of the foreign missions. Under Russian 
rule they would at least be members of a mighty empire, 
and enjoy respect and security ; now they have neither. 
Their fortunes and characters are completely at the mercy of 
vulgar and hostile strangers. 

Oh, for a little common sense ! oh, for one-half hour's 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



9 



pleasant talk with the Sultan in his caique on the Bosphorus 
this summer evening, far away from ambassadors, rivalries, 
jealousies, and intrigues; far away from the influence of 
private vengeance, or Russian gold ; and the ships which 
are now waiting to pass the Dardanelles might remain at 
anchor while their captains quarrelled about salutes and pre- 
cedence with cocked-hatted consuls, for years to come. 
One word, and the danger would vanish; one word, and the 
puzzled brows of honest men would clear again ; one word, 
and the Bosphorus would echo to the grateful cheer of united 
millions, — a little word full of love and kindness, meaning 
justice and gentleness, and all great things. Yet there is 
no one to whisper it into the ear of the Sultan, though his 
life is eaten up with care because he does not speak it. 

That word is "progress." His empire is one vast arena 
of discord and intrigue. It is by this that Russia has pro- 
fited, — and will profit. The Greek hates the Wallach, the 
Wallach despises the Greek ; both are equally hated by the 
Armenian ; all hate the Turks, and are ready instruments 
in the hands of their enemies. Any man who wants power 
or importance must lie and intrigue to obtain it ; must for- 
swear himself, forget his honour and conscience, bribe the 
base, flatter the proud, and truckle to the ignorant. If the 
Sultan would only declare equality of civil and political rights 
among all his subjects alike, this state of things would pass 
away, and sixteen millions of doubtful or discontented 
adherents would rally loyally round him at once. The hostile 
intrigues of the Greeks would cease, and the apathetic 
despair of the "Wallach. The Armenian, finding political 
influence no longer necessary to secure his money-bags, 
would rise into the peaceful trader, indifferent to the smile 
of pasha or the sneer of eunuch. Russian wiles would be 
hopeless then. The inhabitants of the principalities would 
resist their threatened invasion as one man. Public credit 
would revive. There would be tried wisdom in the council, 
and the valour of freemen in the field. The arms would 
become irresistible, which are now folded so listlessly, and 
the whole atmosphere of Turkish affairs would clear as at 
the wave of a fairy wand in a story-book. 

But there are a variety of reasons why this enchanted 



10 



PICTURES FROM 



word should not be pronounced just now. It would be 
practically renouncing the conquest of Mohammed the 
Second, by which, after four hundred and one years, some 
three or four millions of ignorant men still arrogate to them- 
selves, all power, influence, and dominion in the land ! It 
would be also contrary to the designs of Russia, and against 
the insidious advice of her allies. It would be the best and 
only quiet end of the dispute possible, and that would 
hardly agree with the secret wishes of anybody who has the 
management of the matter. No, no ! Russia must be humbled ; 
one must win a coronet, another fame, and another money, 
before all is over. Selim Pasha has a house which he wishes 
to sell beyond its value ; his Excellency Shuffle and his 
Excellency Trifle both want some more diamonds, and the 
order of the blacksmith's apron (first class) ; while his Excel- 
lency Fripon does not wish his pay as a Russian spy to 
cease just yet. The dragomen also find the " crisis" par- 
ticularly profitable. 

Such are the men to whom the interests of the world 
happen to be confided just now, and not one is ashamed to 
take advantage of the most fearful danger which science 
and civilization have passed through for centuries. Each 
follows out his own petty plan, and works underground, for 
his own contemptible objects, in the same way, till earnest 
hope and faith sicken as they watch them. While grave 
and good men cast an awestruck glance into the fearful 
abyss which has opened so suddenly beneath our very feet, 
these triflers are talking nonsense on the brink of it. No 
one knows what they are doing ; they will take no counsel 
or advice, and go on to the end, " Stiff in opinion, always 
in the wrong." 

What is the meaning of this mystery and hocus-pocus at 
such a crisis in the fate of the civilized world, when the 
keenest intellects of wise men, working on the surest data, 
should be toiling to avert the danger ? What are these 
startling dissensions in our cabinet, these secret despatches 
and fearful rumours, which not more than half-a-dozen men 
in the kingdom can verify or dispute ? It is after all but a 
faint kind of wisdom, the offspring of a weak and silly 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



11 



policy. The ablest men that ever were have all had a re- 
markable openness and frankness of dealing. 

Away with this masquerading. Let Englishmen know 
fairly and openly what England is doing, that they may 
sanction or disavow it. Let us see if good sense and good 
humour cannot yet do something, and let us try, at least 
once more, to avoid a peril that will put back the dial of 
time, centuries, and plunge the world in darkness, in spite 
of the glorious light which was dawning on us — the light 
which progress and civilization have brought us through 
thirty-nine blessed years of peace and good order. Those 
who talk lightly of war do not know what it is, and if in 
honour it may still be spared us, let us at least spare no 
simple and reasonable effort to avert it : let the nonsense 
of mere diplomacy be thrown aside for once, and plain words 
be plainly spoken by the frank lips of new and earnest 
men, before we throw away the scabbard. There is a 
moment yet. If it be lost, we shall, I fear, see one of 
the longest and most terrible wars which history has 
recorded. 

It will be a war, not between Russia and Turkey, with 
her allies merely diplomatizing. It will be a war between 
the despotic governments and the free. Austria and Prussia 
will certainly side, in the end, with the Czar. The Emperor 
of Austria is a mere lad, who feels for the great autocrat all 
the warmth of personal and admiring friendship. The King 
of Prussia is his near relative. All are anxious for military 
fame and hostile to England, as the last and only stronghold 
of free institutions in Europe. It is true that no sane 
civilian, in the dominions of either of these sovereigns, thinks 
with him ; but it is equally true that they have both de- 
voted armies and subjects cowed by the events of 1848. Of 
France we can never be sure, for France cannot be sure of 
herself, and she may become as dangerous an ally as an 
enemy. She is fixed in Italy. How should we like to see 
her legions permanently quartered in Egypt ? Let us re- 
member, before we engage in this fearful strife, that England 
has nothing to gain by it, and all to lose ; that she has no 
hope but that inspired by a good cause ; and if, which God 



12 



PICTURES FROM 



forbid, the fate of battles go against her, the world falls 
under an iron and barbarous despotism, from which it will 
not rise again for ages. 

And thus, since all mankind are interested in the main- 
tenance of peace, shall we go to war through the mistakes of 
a few, to please the vengeance of this man, and the pride of 
that ? An awful responsibility hangs over us. Let us weigh 
it well. 



CHAPTER III. 

Mutterings of the many. Rising of the Rayahs. 

The cause of the Greeks in the abstract is perhaps a just 
cause : it is traditionally that of the oppressor against the 
oppressed. Let us acknowledge this freely, and then we 
have said all that can be said upon their side by those 
who wish them best. There is no doubt, that some years 
ago the position of the Rayah was little better than that of 
the American slave. There were many who could and who 
did wrong him cruelly, and he could get no redress. About 
twelve years ago, however, the gentle-hearted prince who 
now sits upon the throne of Turkey abolished this state of 
things. The tanzimat, though a failure in many respects, 
has quite put an end to those cruel evils which had such 
a large share in bringing about the Greek revolution in 
1821. 

It must be granted that the Greeks have still some things 
to complain of ; but, as times go, their griefs are not many 
when compared with the griefs of the rest of the world in 
other places. This is no reason why they should last for 
ever ; but it is a reason why they should be borne with 
some patience at present, and why at all times they should 
rather form matter for calm and reasonable discussion than 
for fighting, which is merely the violent and vulgar argu- 
ment of ignorant men, who are acquainted with no other. 

I apprehend that too little liberty is by no means one of 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



13 



the evil things of which the Christians in Turkey can truly 
complain. The fact is, there is too much. Liberty in Turkey 
almost amounts to licence, and the police does not check 
even vulgar and dangerous brawls with a hand quite stern 
and ready enough. Turkey of late years has run into the 
very extreme of liberalism. Thirty years ago she was fol- 
lowing her political refugees to Vienna and Venice, to bring 
them to torturing and disgraceful deaths at Belgrade or 
Constantinople ; now she has become the secure home of 
hundreds of grateful foreigners, who have fled their country 
to escape destruction. 

Turkey, it is true, has not a free press. We are not 
entitled as yet to expect this last healthy institution of wise 
and honest governments ; but I have no hesitation in saying 
that the press at Constantinople is upon the whole freer than 
that of Athens. There are books published in Turkey, sold 
openly, and taught in Rayah schools, which would infallibly 
doom their possessors to shocking deaths or hopeless impri- 
sonment in Austria or in Italy. Incendiary pamphlets and 
papers are sent to Constantinople and the Turkish provinces 
in ship-loads, from Athens and the states of Greece. They 
are sent, also, I am sorry to say, with the malicious and 
deliberate design of creating political disturbances, yet the 
Turkish government takes no unwise notice of such things. 
There is not a coffee-house throughout the empire where 
these Greek Rayahs assemble, in which Turks are not openly 
cursed with such determined and bitter enmity that it makes 
one quite uncomfortable to listen ; yet, all the time I have 
been in Turkey, I have never heard of such a thing as a 
single prosecution or imprisonment from this cause. As far 
as liberty and general prosperity are concerned, I will assert 
distinctly that the Greeks in Turkey are very much better 
off than those under the remarkably incomprehensible 
government of King Otho. 

I still, however, maintain the opinion that this revolution 
will be dangerous, because, though the Greeks have all this 
liberty, they have not equal political rights with the descend- 
ants of those men who took away their* possessions by the 
strong hand four hundred and one years ago. No advan- 
tages whatever can compensate to reasoning men for the 



14 



PICTURES FROM 



deprivation of these rights. No rule, however gentle, can 
satisfy educated men who have no part in making the laws 
under which they live. It is the freedom of the dog and the 
horse, it is not the freedom of gifted and intelligent human 
beings. The exclusion of Christians from all political power 
and place in Turkey was. for instance, always a very grave 
error ; but it is an evil which now has acquired a fearful 
significance. If equal rights be not granted the Greeks, 
they will and can take them. The struggle will not be con- 
fined to a horde of good-for-nothing idlers and a lew villages 
on the frontier, but it will go gaining ground and strength 
constantly, till a whole people will again some day be seen 
in arms battling for the plainest and most evident of the 
rights of man. England, at least, will find it hard to fight 
with the Turks against Christian men in such a cause as 
this. Let us speak it out frankly too, she would be most 
completely and entirely in the wrong were she to do so. 

The difficulty of Greek rebellion or disaffection at the 
present time is by far the most serious, then, which has 
grown out of the Turco-Russian question ; and there is 
every reason to believe that it will be sustained with great 
obstinacy, however it may seem subdued. Its chiefs will 
be, as we see already, the sons of those who took a foremost 
part in the first struggle for Greek independence ; of men 
unrivalled in skill and courage, who submitted to be roasted 
by slow fires, and to see their wives and children skinned 
in sport, rather than give up the cause for which they were 
in arms ; of men who, all things considered, were the first 
sailors and soldiers of the age ; who humbled the armies of 
Turkey upon the land, and the fleets of Egypt upon the sea, 
and whose undaunted constancy in defeat and misfortune at 
last won for them the general respect and sympathy of man- 
kind. 

Having looked this difficulty bravely in the face, let me 
add earnestly and sincerely, that I believe it may be now 
easily stopped. It may be stopped by timely and gracious 
concession ; it may be stopped by wise and gentle negotia- 
tion. The time now* is while this may be ; yet a little while, 
and it shall have passed. The rising cannot be repressed by 
the strong hand. The time is now plainly arrived when the 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



15 



three millions of Turks who inhabit Turkey must accord 
equal rights to the sixteen millions of Christians who live 
there also. This is nothing more than is merely just and 
proper. It is something which must inevitably happen. 
Why, then, would it be so hard a task to do what must be 
done, in time, and gracefully 1 

It seems, however, that plain reasonable men in diplo- 
macy are impossible, while Fiddlededee and Tweedledum are 
allowed to keep us continually in hot water. We hear 
of great generals and able rulers enough, but a respectable 
negotiator is a wonder. With the single exceptions of Russia 
and Austria, the nations appear like so many young whist- 
players, who are a great deal too fond of keeping the trump 
cards in their own hands. Affairs which at home occupy 
the whole attention of the keenest intellects are confided 
abroad to fiddlers and buffoons, who are quite incapable of 
understanding the momentous questions sometimes at stake 
in our foreign policy ; whose heads are full of Noodleisms 
and Dooclleisms; who never said a plain thing in their lives, 
or did a wise one, — men who may have been all very well 
once upon a time, as the representatives of governments 
which could stoop to pay court to the leman of an empress, 
or to flatter the follies of a prince, but who are most 
dangerous in times of serious trouble. JSTow the part of 
England in this business is that of timely mediation, and of 
temperate counsels ; let us hope she will choose her repre- 
sentative for once wisely. 

Let us say one word more in affectionate earnest towards 
the Greeks. We are no friends to revolutions. If we 
examine closely into the causes and results of any rebellion, 
we shall cease to feel any extraordinary reverence for the 
actors in it. Both they, and the motives which influenced 
them, have been very seldom above reproof ; and although 
many fine things may be said on the other side, the world 
is fast coming round to this opinion. When a conquest is 
once effected, a wise man should rather try to improve the 
existing government than to overturn it. No one can assert 
that it would have been an advantage to the English to 
revolt against the Normans at any time after the firm 
establishment of their government ; or that the United 



16 



PICTURES FROM 



States of America gained more by a long and bloody waf 
than they would certainly have obtained it allowed to send 
deputies to the British parliament. I will go farther, and 
say that if Italy or Hungary should recover their freedom, it 
is doubtful if the sum of happiness in those countries would 
be thereby increased. The history of Italy and Hungary 
was never so free from stain as since they passed under the 
rule of Austria, mistaken both in principle and practice as I 
believe that rule to be ; and Poland certainly lost nothing 
when she was made acquainted with a government strong 
enough to repress her own fierce and pitiable dissensions. 
The honest patriots therefore of those countries would be 
much better employed, working for wise reforms in Vienna 
and St. Petersburg, than in acting the sad lie of attempting 
to sanction disorder and bloodshed under the august name 
of liberty. Even so, the kingdom of modern Greece has 
been a great political failure ; it is better to give it up than to 
add to it. 

I believe, then, that men with sound and strong convic- 
tions of right things always end by bringing others over to 
their opinions, and may thus effect any necessary change in 
the machinery of government gradually but surely ; for God 
holds the hearts of kings in his own keeping ; He has not 
made them different to those of other men, and assuredly He 
will open them to reasons gently urged. His curse, there- 
fore, seems to light on the violent men who doubt his justice, 
and who dishonour the cause of right by the sword. 

Their argument is based upon a principle which is in 
itself wrong, that of committing a certain evil for an uncer- 
tain good ; it admits of no reply, and may be maintained 
without convincing. It is the brutish argument of passionate 
savages, and unworthy the calm right intellects of our 
time. 

No government can long deny a plain right wisely urged j 
but a strong government will not deign to listen to rights 
advocated with a bludgeon. Those who identify the right 
with the bludgeon injure it sometimes for centuries. Prudent 
men do not work in this way, good men will not, and timid 
men fear to do so. 

In conclusion, I would say, that it is my firm opinion, no 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



17 



mailer hoio far a rule extends, so that it is wisely wiehLd. 
But if we go back into the past to dispute the conquests of 
former ages, and will decide a silly question of races with 
the armed hand, the world must remain always in an uproar, 
and agitation will be a more thriving trade than honesty. 
Let us the rather look upon mankind as all of the great 
family of God, so that the past may lose its sting, and the 
future may grow gay with hope. Petty dissensions fomented 
for personal objects by unwise rulers have sent us to sleep 
about our true interests. Let us awake, and exchange the 
dreams of schoolboys for the living truths of the world. 



CHAPTER IT. 

A Lalk about Turkey. 

I woxder how the world will wag if we should ever be able 
to see the effects of plain common sense as applied to politics. 
I know I have no right to speculate on such a subject, and 
that my so doing is altogether ridiculous. Common sense is 
the despair of Downing-street. Huffey never heard of it all 
the time he has been in the line ; and Noodle, who is a 
pleasant wit, would like to know how it is spelt. I am 
ready, therefore, to admit that politics are among the occult 
sciences, and proper to be carried on only in the confidential 
despatches of Sir Hector Stubble. I will grant that the 
world's weal is an affair which concerns nobody but Sir 
Hector and Captain Bolt, the Queen's messenger ; still I 
am puzzled. 

I have been thinking again about the Greek revolution in 
Turkey, and the wild work that is going on in Epirus. 
I have been thinking also that three-and-thirty years ago 
things were very much in the state we now find them, 
Russia had intrigued successfully on the Danube. There was 
a bother in Persia. The Greek priests were unfurling the 
banner of revolt at Patras, and that wonderful court of 
St. Petersburg was biding its time. 

c 



18 



PICTURES FROM 



England might have played a noble part in all this, and 
the hopes of all honest men were turned anxiously towards 
her. In fact, she was the only power which had a wise 
solution of the question in her hands. France behaved very 
well, much better indeed than we did ; but political events 
still recent in that country had not been of a character to 
make persons consider that they could look upon her govern- 
ment with such implicit trust as it would have commanded 
under more favourable circumstances. Russia and her tricks 
were known. Austria was the avowed ally of Turkey, and 
her conduct was a disgrace to the age. The other powers 
were of small account in the question, and England alone 
remained. 

But we had at that time in the East two of the most 
thoroughly improper people who could have been chosen for 
such a crisis. The one was Sir Thomas Maitland, otherwise 
called King Tom, lord high commissioner of the Ionian 
Islands ; and the other, who came on the scene later, was his 
Excellency Sir Hector Stubble, his majesty's ambassador at 
Constantinople. Both were as hard, stern, violent men as 
ever fanned the sparks of a national discontent into an 
unextinguishable name. Both were persons of honour and 
repute. It was that which made them dangerous. Had 
they not been so they would at once have fallen under 
public censure. The case on both sides would have been 
examined, and perhaps something done. But England had 
a high respect lor both these officers, and they carried the 
puplic opinion of the nation with them. Both were men 
utterly incapable of doing anything which they believed to 
be wrong ; but both were most miserably mistaken. They 
shut themselves up in solitary grandeur from the public 
voice ; they would not learn from plain things around them, 
and they went wrong, so that a child might see they were 
astray. Their heads were full of the divine rights of kings 
and all sorts of obsolete nonsense, and exploded traditions of 
statecraft. They could not even understand the feelings 
which were agitating the masses ; and they would have had 
no large and wise sympathy, or toleration for them, if they 
could. 

We had therefore the singular spectacle of seeing King 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



Tom close the ports of the Ionian Islands to the wretched 
fugitives from the Peloponnesus, while Sir Hector's negotia- 
ations ended, as such negotiations always must end, in the 
appearance of the combined fleets at Navarino, an event 
in which Russia took so obliging a part. Xor did these 
gentlemen stop here. They were wrong-headed and uncon- 
ciliating beyond belief ; Sir Thomas Maitland addressed one 
of the most bumptious letters ever written to some Greeks 
who were sent to implore his mediation. Yet, though he 
was so ready to insult he would not argue with them, and 
they returned without their errand. As for Sir Hector and 
his predecessor (a sort of Fiddlededee), it is impossible to 
think of their conduct without a stern reproof. During 
almost the whole war English gentlemen were engaged on 
both sides. We sent money and fighting men to the Greeks ; 
and we gave information of their proceedings to the enemy. 
And this lies at the door of Sir Hector Stubble, and the sort 
of Lord Fiddlededee who preceded him ; so now, after a 
generation has passed away let us summon them before the 
bar of posterity for judgment, and that others may be 
warned. 

The solution of the question, however, was easy. It 
depended on one single act of the Porte, and that act ought 
to have been won or forced from it, if not long before, why 
then. A charter abolishing the disabilities of the Christians 
in Turkey would have pacified the Peloponnesus in a week. 
Had the Turks refused to grant it they should have been 
made, but had the negotiations been conducted properly they 
could not, and they would not have refused. 

The fact that such a document should have been still 
required was a disgrace to all Christendom. They might 
have been quieted by the simplest means, and they had the 
plainest right and justice on their side. But the people who 
should have aided them talked wisely of the treaties of 1815, 
and some other equally indigestible nonsense about the 
balance of power, which had nothing at all to do with the 
business ; for any person might have perceived that an 
independent Greek nation would have been precisely the 
absurdity it turned out. It was not necessary to split 
Turkey into factions. It was merely proper to insist that 

c2 



20 



PICTURES FROM 



the 16,000,000 of Christians in that country should be 
placed upon a decent equality with the 3,000,000 who pro- 
fessed another faith. This was England's part, and she 
refused it. 

Now as to the treaties of 1815, I heartily hope we shall 
hear no more of them as obstructions to reason and progress. 
The only sensible person connected with them was Talley- 
rand, and he was not honest. Castlereagh, Clancarty, 
Fiddlededee — where is a great name but that of Wellington ! 
And he was not an able statesman, according to our ideas, for 
he was a determined enemy of progress. Enough. 

What shall be done now? Are we to have more roastings, 
and ship burnings, enlivened by the sale of young ladies by 
auction in the bazaars of Smyrna and Constantinople ] Or 
shall we take the straight path at last, and do that which is 
right and proper, which is decent and merciful ? 

We cannot hope for the success of any arms against 
the Greeks. They are a people labouring under a cruel 
wrong, — a wrong which is eating at the heart of Turkey, 
which brings treason to her councils and dissensions in her 
camp, and which does away absolutely with all public spirit 
and good citizenship, which makes her a by-word among 
the nations. 

Let us have but a Christian charter, so that reason, justice, 
and mercy be appeased. The day that it is granted our 
fleets may go home, and peace, wealth, and good order, with 
progress and the graces, will go trooping through united 
Turkey. This is no mere figure of speech : it is no unrea- 
soning tirade. It shows only what a little common sense 
might do as applied to politics, and ends my wonder. The 
enemy which Turkey has really to fear is neither in Russia 
nor in Persia, nor among the wild hordes of Montenegro ; 
but he stands gaunt, grim, and terrible, but pleading still, by 
every Christian hearth in the land. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



21 



CHAPTER V. 

The military pic-nic at Chobham. The state of our army and navy. Idle 
boasts. The camp becomes a place of fashionable resort. Colonel Lord 
Fitzgrey. General the Honourable Sir Ajax Fitzelliot. Captain 
and Lieutenant- Colonel Moneybags, and Lady Prudence Moneybags. 
Their entertainments to the aristocracy. Lord Methusaleh Fitz- 
russell distinguishes himself. His wealthy and titled staff. His 
heroic sufferings. Royal visitors to the camp. The same august 
personages visit Mr. Keeley. All ends happily in consequence of 
the respect paid to the opinions of the late Duke of Wellington. 
Rapid increase of the Stubble fever. Vain glory. Bewilderment 
of the Emperor of Russia. Singular conduct of the allies in the 
Black Sea. Passage of the Pruth. Friendly feelings between 
Russia and England. The candlestick of M. de Howard. The 
bullet of M. de Nelson, 

It was about the middle of June, I think, that there first 
arose in our minds an unwonted feeling of interest on mili- 
tary matters. We began to tell each other inquiringly that 
our army and navy were never in so high a state of discipline 
and efficiency. We nervously declared our opinion that 
England, single-handed, was a match for all the world. Our 
faith in emigration was by no means shaken in consequence 
of the decrease of population in Ireland, and the prospect 
which was held out to us of being obliged speedily to send 
for agricultural labourers from abroad. We sang the songs 
of Dibdin and Campbell at our public gatherings and fes- 
tivals. We trusted implicitly in the statements respecting 
our national prowess contained in those songs. We never 
applauded the toasts of our toast-masters so much as when 
they contained some allusion to Britannia ruling the waves 
and everything else. Mr. Sharp, at the Cider Cellars, and 
Mr. Somebody-else, at the Jovial Apollos, eminently ap- 
proved of these sentiments, and gave utterance to them in 
the most popular form. The performances at Astley's were, 
if possible, of a more pugnacious nature than usual. There 
Shaw, the Life Guardsman, slew a host of Britain's puny 
enemies, with his own hand, before our very eyes. Grave 



22 



PICTUBES FROM 



men were much reassured by the recollection of this circum- 
stance, and stated that they remembered the semi-official 
account of it which appeared at the time. They agreed that, 
after all, there was much reliance to be placed on popular 
sayings, and they really thought (though they would not, for 
the world, incur the charge of stupid overweening national 
vanity) — yes, they really thought that one Englishman was 
equal to three foreigners, of what country soever. Be- 
sides, were we not the most enlightened nation in the world ? 
To be sure, the Austrians and Russians were said to possess 
a few military secrets which had not yet reached us ; but 
there were the Shrapnel shell, and the Lancaster inventions ; 
and then, by Jove, you know, there might he something in 
"Warner's long-range. In short, if any nation or nations 
should ever be found really bold enough to stand up against 
us, it was our general opinion that the middle of next week, 
or probably the week after, would be the precise period of 
time to which the nation or nations in question would 
speedily find themselves hurled. It was, perhaps, quite as 
well that we should give a lesson to the world just now, 
merel V to show them what we could do if we should ever be 
really offended. In short, we would have a week's holiday, 
and a camp at Chobham. Then, perhaps, the world's eyes 
would be opened a little. It would give the press something 
to talk about also during the hot weather, besides the Great 
Exhibition in Dublin, which was reminding folks of the sen- 
sations experienced by those who were obliged to eat par- 
tridges every day. and was getting, indeed, rather a bore. 

So, a camp we had ; and a very singular exhibition it was. 
A number of well-dressed troops were marched about on a 
jDlain which had been most judiciously selected for their use. 
Like all war countries, it was perfectly free from any ruts or 
inequalities, so that the line of the crack cavalry regiments 
could be kept with great precision, and the stocks of the 
infantry were not so liable to throw them down, as they 
would have been on more difficult ground. 

Xo accident of importance having happened to anybody 
during the preliminary arrangements, the camp soon became 
a place of fashionable resort. It was as good as a play. 
Parade went mad there, and the cousinocracy showed itself 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



23 



worthy of the occasion. Colonel Lord Fitzgrey entertained 
a distinguished party to breakfast at Stufiem's Railway 
Hotel. General the Honourable Sir Ajax Fitzelliot did the 
same ; and so did Captain and Lieutenant-Colonel Money- 
bags and Lady Prudence Moneybags. 

Lord Methusaleh Fitzrussell distinguished himself, also, 
by adding a feature of much brilliancy to the spectacle ; 
this gouty and distinguished officer being the first to suggest 
that the staff should appear in their fullest and newest uni- 
forms at every review. 

So the whole thing went off most brilliantly. The Life 
Guards made one of the most dashing and gallant charges on 
record against an imaginary enemy. Nothing could have 
been more grand and picturesque. The infantry retired over 
the bridge from Colonel Challoner's grounds to the Queen's 
Ride in admirable order. The attack on Flutter's Hill pro- 
duced an effect positively inspiriting. The pontoons at Vir- 
ginia Water were charming. 

Lord Methusaleh Fitzrussell, attended by a wealthy or 
titled staff of his own immediate connections, including the 
sons of his family banker and solicitor, rode slowly along the 
line, in a manner suited to his age, dignity, and infirmities. 
Nothing could have been more admirable than the conduct 
of his lordship on this trying occasion. The intrepid heroism 
with which he kept his seat on horseback, in spite of severe 
rheumatic pains, brought on by the frequent showers which 
had caused even the boldest old ladies to take shelter ; the 
cheerful manner in which he raised his double eye-glass, to 
inspect each fine regiment as it filed past him. Indeed, the 
scene was quite affecting, and his lordship's medical man 
(present with a lancet, in case another attack of apoplexy 
had seized my lord suddenly), received the warmest and most 
deserved compliments for his care and skill, from a select 
circle of the aristocracy. 

The number and fashion of the visitors to the camp in- 
creased daily. The young nobility and gentry from Eton 
arrived, under the command of Dr. Haw trey, carrying his 
rod of office, that even the rising generation might witness 
the dazzling effect produced by the pomp of glorious war, 
without any of its inconvenience. 



pictures from: 



Lastly her Majesty the Queen, Field Marshal his Royal 
Highness Prince Albert, their Majesties the King and 
Queen of Hanover, his Serene Highness the Duke of Saxe- 
Coburg Gotha, and Prince Lucien Bonaparte honoured the 
entertainment with their august presence, and subsequently 
. appeared at the theatre, ■ where Mr. Keeley very pleasantly 
burlesqued the whole affair. 

So all ended happily ; every man who knew anything of 
the subject congratulating us that the reviews had not 
taken place in Hyde-park ; for the Duke of Wellington had 
frankly told us that the result of our system was such, that 
we had no officer in high command, who, if he had once got 
an army into those precincts, would know how to get it 
out again. 

We had not, however, begun as yet to pay much atten- 
« tion to contemptible sneers of this sort. We were like a 

set of adventurous youths who had been learning to swim 
with corks, and being highly satisfied with our performances, 
under these circumstances, we were rashly resolved to ven- 
ture in the deepest seas on the first' opportunity. 

We were so drunk with vanity and military enthusiasm, 
that we would hear nothing more about any negotiations, 
save those of Sir Hector, whose intemperance most nearly 
resembled our national intoxication. 

When it turned out that Prince MensckikofF was yielding 
step by step ; when we learned that his demands in May 
were altogether different to those he had advanced in April ; 
when the cloud and mystery of diplomacy was just pene- 
trable, so far as to enable us to ascertain that his claim from 
the Porte had finally dwindled from a formal treaty down 
to a mere diplomatic note, so confused and contradictory in 
its terms, that it meant nothing, save that Nicholas saw he 
had committed an imprudence, and desired to save appear- 
ances, — I say, when we at last found out this, we felt a 
positive sense of joy that Sir Hector had acted with the 
haste and violence he had done. We laughed all idea of 
mutual concessions to scorn. The great British embarrasser 
at Constantinople should be allowed to wreak his ill-temper 
on friends and foes, while we would stand applauding at a 
respectful distance. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



25 



The Emperor of Russia evidently could not make out in 
the least what we were about. We only said that he was 
mad, but he must have believed that we were so. "We 
suffered Turkey to be drained of her resources, and the 
revenues of the Danubian principalities to be seized by 
Russia. We prevented the Turkish fleet manoeuvring 
in the Black Sea, in order to attain something like efficiency 
if the struggle should really come. We permitted the 
invasion of Moldavia, though the Pruth was nearly impass- 
able ; and Onier Pasha, if allowed, might have defended it 
with even more success than he afterwards defended the 
Danube. Lastly, as if to ease the autocrat's mind entirely, 
we agreed to place our interests in the hands of his old 
friend Lord Fiddledee, and to dance perpetually in a mazy 
whirl to his agreeable music at Vienna. 

For the rest, Russia was one of the few foreign countries 
that had no grudge against us ; and where the name of 
England was, at this time, generally popular, Britons were 
established and flourishing in every part of that vast 
empire. British engineers had helped to build the fortifica- 
tions of Cronstadt and Sebastopol. They had assisted in 
the planning of railroads and the working of mines. Our 
trade with Russia was enormous, and mutually profitable. 
It throve especially at Odessa ; and it would have taken a 
more vigorous imagination even than that of Nicholas, to 
suppose we should make a mere vapouring and objectless 
attack against a place which was endeared to us by every 
tie binding on the merchant and the antiquarian — a place, 
the very name of which was heard with enthusiasm in 
Mark-lane and Manchester, and which respectfully pre- 
served in its Museum a battered old japan candlestick, 
because it was said to have belonged to the jDhilanthropic 
Howard. In the work-boxes of the Crimean ladies were 
locks of hair which were fondly believed to have once 
covered the head of Wellington ; and did not a great prince 
at St. Petersburg display to his admiring guests, whenever 
an opportunity offered for so doing, the identical bullet that 
shot Monsieur de Nelson ? 

In fact, these reflections in the end so thoroughly con- 
vinced Nicholas of the real amiability of our intentions, 



26 



PICTURES FROM 



that his equanimity was scarcely disturbed by what he 
thought a little mere braggadocio of Sir Hector's friends in 
the House of Commons, and his colleagues of the press. 
Besides, he was tolerably sure of the friendship of the 
Foreign Office, in any eventuality ; for, since even great 
Palmerston had been dismissed for a few words which it was 
supposed might not be quite agreeable to the Emperor of 
Austria, it was clear that he (the Emperor of all the Rus- 
sias) had nothing to fear in that quarter. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Review of Lord Stratford's war policy in Turkey. Opinions of my 
ribald cousin. Horror and surprise of the writer at being made 
the depositary of these statements. Declares his orthodox faith in 
Lord Stratford and the aristocracy. Will live and die believing in 
Viscounts. 

All is over, the die is cast, and nothing can exceed the sense 
of refreshment and satisfaction I experience in contemplat- 
ing the honourable and handsome conduct of a delicate- 
minded public towards that great and mighty prince, Lord 
Stratford de Redcliffe. A peaceable and intelligent public 
has allowed itself to be got into a scrape with charming 
docility and good humour ; and Britons would naturally 
consider it the extreme of shabbiness to reproach the digni- 
fied bottle-holder, who has undertaken in the most stately 
manner to act as second on the present interesting occasion, 
and to stir it up. I wish to do the fullest justice to the 
downright pluck and noble qualities which that public has 
displayed, as well as to the condescension of the distin- 
guished nobleman who has been graciously pleased to elicit 
them. 

My incorrigible cousin Tom, however, who is a low fellow, 
with radical opinions, and who does not entertain at all a 
proper respect for the peerage, will not be brought to view 
matters in the same agreeable light as that in which they 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



27 



appear to me — and a spirited public. In order, however, 
that the opinions of this vulgar person may be the better 
held up to universal execration and contempt, I will proceed 
to state them as briefly as possible. I will beg an imagina- 
tive public, however, to understand, that, while I am doing 
so, my nose is turned up as much as my lips are drawn 
down, and as for my eyes, I am frequently obliged to close 
them in the utter extreme of disgust and amazement ! 

The dull dog, then (Ugh !), affirms that it would seem to 
be growing every day more painfully evident, that the policy 
of Lord Stratford has been one fearful and deplorable mis- 
take, from first to last. He says that the revolt of the 
rayah population of Turkey might have been as easily fore- 
seen as averted ; but that, since it has been allowed unwisely 
to burst forth, it will some day spread from Janina to the 
Danube, and from the frontiers of Persia to the Nile. We 
may, indeed, smother the flame for a time, but it will break 
out again, and in the end devour us. Greece has, of course, 
caught fire, and he (the miscreant above mentioned) is very 
much mistaken if the Ionian Islands will not, sooner or later, 
be in a flame also. He will have it, that the revolution of 
the Rayahs, and the aid given them by the independent 
Greeks, forms by far the most serious of the many vexed 
questions to which Lord Stratford's intemperance has given 
rise. (I wonder that the earth does not open and swallow 
him up !) 

It would seem (I give the miscreant's own words) that 
we mean to put the Greeks down by the strong hand ; but 
there is a very serious doubt if we shall be able to do so. 
We may (I should think so, indeed !) blockade Athens if 
we please ; we may occupy Corinth, Patras, Nauplia, Mes- 
saloughi, but that will not stop the tide of events which is 
now rolling hoarsely onwards. (What events *?) Though we 
may do these things (I believe he is mad), we have no 
right to do them ; and we shall be drawing the bright sword 
of England to maintain a cruel and a crying wrong. The 
Rayahs are determined to be free — the independent Greeks 
will aid them ; and both parties will be supplied by the gold 
and counsels of Russia, for whatever the latter may be 
worth. 



28 



PICTURES FROM! 



All this miglit have been avoided twelve months ago (I 
let the fool go on !) by a more plain and intelligible policy. 
Had Lord Stratford been a conciliatory and judicious person, 
his task would have been easy; but he was otherwise, and 
he has therefore failed. (Stupendous ! ) No one can be 
justified in advancing such a statement as this, unless he 
supports it by argument : he (the arrogant blockhead) 
will therefore point out a course which he (the digni- 
fied statesman) might have pursued with a happier result, 
and to which had he (the dignified statesman) deigned to 
listen, he would have known was in accordance with the 
wishes and ideas of most of the practical men mixed up in 
Eastern affairs. 

Such men contend that the wrongs of the Rayahs were 
the strongest arm of Russia — and, therefore, immediately 
affairs grew serious ; the emancipation of the sixteen millions 
of Christians in Turkey was no longer a simple act of justice 
they had always been entitled to demand, but it was also an 
act of good policy, which it was prudent to carry out in- 
stantly. They should not only have been enfranchised, but 
employed in posts of trust and honour, to show that their 
liberty was a fact and not a mockery. (A likely thing, in- 
deed ! What would have become of the rights of conquest, 
goose V) The Principalities should then have been placed in 
a formidable state of defence, as it was always from this quar- 
ter that the first attack was expected. As it was, the Rus- 
sians were permitted to take up a very strong military posi- 
tion unopposed ; to seize a considerable portion of the 
revenues of the Sultan ; to quarter their armies at his ex- 
pense, and to carry the horrors of war into his dominions : 
thus, from the very outset, inflicting an injury on the Turks 
for which reparation was next to impossible. The time 
which should have been employed in preventing this was 
wasted incomprehensibly, and Lord Stratford appears to have 
looked to England, from the very first, as the only support of 
his obstinate impolicy. (I must entreat a sympathetic public 
to understand that I have collapsed !) 

Before engaging in the war, the finances of Turkey should 
have been placed on a sounder footing. A few clear-headed 
arithmeticians from Lombard Street and Paris would have 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



29 



been more valuable in the East than the Grenadier Guards. 
They should have been appointed to form a committee for 
the revision of the whole system of Turkish taxation, and 
then employed in seeing to the honest collection of the re- 
venue. They might thus have easily made themselves worth 
their (avoirdupois) weight of solid gold. (I am gasping for 
breath !) The question of the Holy Sepulchre, which owed 
its origin entirely to diplomatic intemperance, should have 
been promptly arranged. 

Under such a policy, the offensive arms of Russia would 
have been rendered harmless ; and Turkey was quite strong 
enough to fight her owm battles. Under ordinary circum- 
stances, indeed, a nation with nineteen million inhabitants 
could hardly carry on a successful war with a nation number- 
ing sixty millions ; but experience has amply shown us, 
that numbers do not always decide the fate of an invaded 
country. Turkey had the good feeling of Europe with her : 
she fought upon her own ground ; she had Circassia and 
the numerous tribes hostile to the government of the Czar, 
who waited but her signal to rise. She had Hungary, Italy, 
and Bohemia for a hostile Austria ; France and the Rhenish 
Provinces to check Prussia ; Poland for all. 

After the complete enfranchisement of the Christians, she 
would also have had the inestimable advantage of a just 
cause, with a fiery and grateful population to support it. 
Men would have stood up for her who are unequalled in 
courage and resources ; from among whom have already been 
born sea captains like Miaoulis and Kanaris, and such gene- 
rals as Karaiskaki and Colocotroni : for the Greeks do not 
love the Russians ; they only consent to receive their aid, 
being weary of hope in any other direction. 

Having seen that Turkey was prepared to fight, our part 
might have been confined to watching events ; for the 
butchery at Sinope would of course have been impossible. 
As a nation, we had no occasion to mix ourselves up in the 
dispute. We have been dragged into this part of the busi- 
ness solely by a petulant elderly gentleman (ribald ruffian ! 
if ever there was one. How can an ambassador be petulant 
or elderly and because he would not be told how to act, 
and did not know. (The world's at an end !) We might 



30 



PICTURES FHOM: 



have allowed as many fighting adventurers to go to Turkey 
as pleased — just as they went to Spain or to South America. 
Our press, also, would have been an effective weapon : the 
thunder of the Times, and the general indignation of all good 
people, would have been potent beyond belief. There was 
no need for us to go further. If Turkey wanted allies, there 
were Egypt and the Barbary states bound to assist her ; 
while, at the bidding of a friendly France, Abd-el-Kader 
in Algiers might have mustered a crowd of gallant horse- 
men, whose absence from that province might have at last 
permitted model French farmers to grow their cabbages in 
peace. 

But Lord Stratford has been allowed (I let the idiot 
ramble on) to press forward the war without preparing 
Turkey by one single act of wisdom or prudence. He has 
had no better counsel to offer her than a new loan, foreign 
troops, and even London policemen. Not a single necessary 
reform has been made, no one branch of Turkish administra- 
tion has been rendered more effective. Her adviser has 
allowed her to flounder through a sea of financial difficulties : 
even the question of the Holy Sepulchre remains unsettled. 
The Rayahs have been goaded to revolt ; the adventurers 
who flocked to Turkey have been refused service ; bank- 
ruptcy and famine came trooping from afar : yet the pro- 
ject for a national bank at Constantinople was allowed to 
die still-born ; and no measure has been suggested for the 
employment of agricultural machines, or the varied resources 
of modern science, to supply the hands called away to the 
army from the necessary tilling of the land ; while the ex- 
port of corn has been permitted till its present prohibition 
is a mere mockery to starving millions. (Ugh ! you goose !) 
Now, if, before the occupation of the Principalities became a 
fact, Turkey had been notoriously as well jDrepared as she 
seemed indifferent, and was defenceless, there is little 
doubt but that Russia would have withdrawn at once till a 
more convenient season. Thus far she had merely engaged 
in a diplomatic intrigue. But so wise a man as the Czar 
could hardly suppose that, after allowing Turkey herself to 
be so completely passive that there was hardly a review of 
troops, and her ships lay lazily at anchor in the Bosphorus, 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



SI 



we were prepared to break a forty years' peace to go to war 
ourselves about her. 

The fact is, however, that after the departure of Prince 
Menschikoff made it evident that the game was growing 
serious, Great Britain should have at once removed Lord 
Westmoreland from Vienna, and Lord Stratford from Con- 
stantinople. 

Respecting the first, it is only necessary to say that we 
required a particularly able man at the court of Austria ; 
and we need but take note of the conduct of that power, 
throughout the dispute, to show the results of having left a 
trifler. Lord Westmoreland has either completely failed in 
convincing Austria of her true interests, or, what is much 
more likely, he has been deliberately deceived. If we con- 
trast the effects of the short visit of Lord Palmerston to 
Paris, and the loyal conduct of France, with the conse- 
quences of the permanent mission of our most musical 
minister at Vienna, the difference will seem remarkable. 
Such men as Lord Westmoreland have indeed been employed 
before in serious business, but always with a like evil. 
Thus, on the approach of danger, the minister of Caliph 
Mustapha was occupied in finding two canary-birds who 
could sing precisely the same note.* With Lord Westmore- 
land at Vienna, and so able a man as M. cle Bruck at Con- 
stantinople, Austria has been of course able to use Great 
Britain to fight her battles ; and we are now beginning to 
dance to Lord Westmoreland's fiddling with a readiness and 
agility which is the very perfection of British simplicity and 
good breeding. 

As to the reappointment of Lord Strafcford, it is not diffi- 
cult (says this hopeful youth) to estimate its imprudence. 
He was as well known for his intractable ill-humour as 
Lord Westmoreland for incapacity. His reputation as a 
dangerous and unsuccessful negotiator was not new, for the 
battle of Navarino might have warned us of the inevitable 
end of confiding a peace policy to his keeping. But a few 
months before, also, his intemperance in business had caused 
a general protest against his appointment as secretary for 



* Gibbon. 



32 



PICTURES FROM 



foreign affairs, even under what was pleasantly called the 
" dizzy " government of Lord Derby. It is not easy to under- 
stand how Lord Stratford could have been a proper person 
as British ambassador in Turkey at any time. After forty 
years' residence in the East, he has effected nothing — unless 
we give him partly the reputation of the Tanzimat, which 
has turned out so cruel a deception. The famous tariff was 
negotiated by Sir Henry Bulwer ; and the entire credit of 
the Hungarian-refugee question was plainly due to the 
chivalry and determination of Lord Palmerston. Forty 
years at Constantinople are said not even to have taught 
Lord Stratford the language of the country, or gained him a 
friend there. He is merely a man who, having been placed 
in a high position all his life (but who did not obtain it by 
his ability), has committed no disgraceful or dishonourable 
act. There all praise must end ; for I have yet to learn 
that, during the better half of a long lifetime, he has given 
a single proof of high and marked capacity. 

If we reflect what a really able man might have effected 
at Constantinople in forty years, and backed by the immense 
influence of Great Britain in the East, while we read Lord 
Stratford's own account of his labours in his unlucky fare- 
well speech of 18-52, we may reasonably wonder at the 
reputation he has acquired. If, as his friends say, he has 
"lavished wise advice upon Turkey," he seems to have 
lavished it in so ill-natured a manner as to insure its 
rejection ; for we see no effects of it. It is certain that 
everything connected with Turkey is in a most deplorable 
muddle : and as far as the opinion of people residing in that 
country may be worth anything, a traveller may gather that 
the name of Strattord Canning in the East is merely synony- 
mous with violence of behaviour, extravagant pretensions, 
and pompous eccentricity. His ideas on most subjects are 
declared to be as hopelessly wrong as Lord Westmoreland's, 
and almost as valueless, if they were right. 

If England required, therefore, an ambassador who could 
display his own importance and consume a great deal of 
consequence, Lord Stratford was just the man for her ; but 
if she demanded a person at once temperate and liberal 
in his ideas, a man thoroughly acquainted with her best 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



33 



interests and earnestly anxious to further them, patient, 
well informed on passing events, an enlightened statesman, 
and a conciliatory negotiator, circumstances have furnished 
sufficient evidence that he was not. 

His singular quarrel with Colonel Rose, a man of rare tact 
and amiability of manner, was at least ungenerous, and 
would seem to show that advice was unwelcome to him even 
from the officer who was especially appointed to counsel him. 
A paragraph in the Times which preceded his arrival would go 
to prove that not even an attache or a tradesman is beneath 
his extraordinary appetite for quarrelling ; and it is the 
popular belief at Constantinople that his staff live under a 
rule so stern as to have no choice between the discipline of 
children and the exile of criminals. This is probably why 
the amiable brother of one of the most amiable men in 
England (I am speaking of Lord Carlisle) positively declined 
to serve under so harsh a task-master, and left his post of 
secretary to the embassy vacant twelve months. It is also 
why Lord Stratford finds it necessary to employ persons on 
public business of whom the Foreign Office knows nothing, 
and who insult the sacred mysteries of diplomacy by publish- 
ing his private despatches in the public papers. It is on 
record that he had quarrelled with all his subordinates so 
violently and so often, that he was obliged to solicit permis- 
sion to nominate and displace whom he pleased, as the only 
condition on which his reappointment could be possible. 
Thus he marches alone to his own ends, and we see how sad 
they are. He has even quarrelled with the admirals who 
were sent to support him ; with the French embassy, with 
Lord Raglan, and with the Duke of Cambridge. (An 
observant public will perceive that I have let the lost wretch, 
my cousin Tom, talk on in his own person, that he may the 
better incur utter abhorrence ; besides, reason is lost on a 
contemptible fellow of that kind.) 

I am not (pursues the arrogant idiot) by any means 
attacking Lord Stratford in his private capacity. Those 
who know him assert that he is laborious, and by no means 
without a certain antiquated intelligence. I merely say 
that at Constantinople he has scarcely effected one good 
thing in forty years, and that he has suffered many evil ones 

D 



34 



PICTURES FROM 



which a more prudent person would have prevented. He is 
believed also to be conscientiously mistaken ; but mistaken 
he is, and miserably so. There were places enough where 
such a man might have been harmless, or even useful ; as 
the president of an unreformed college, as master of the 
ceremonies at a small German court, as the confidential 
friend of an old lady of property, or the irreproachable 
guardian of a young one. But a safe and wise diplomatist he 
is not ; and let things turn how they may, a most awful 
responsibility must rest upon him ; — the responsibility of 
having rashly disturbed a peace which has been one of the 
most hopeful and valuable to mankind at large that the 
world has ever known ; and of having thrust the civilized 
world into a war from which it has all to lose and nothing 
to gain, and which might have been averted by common 
prudence and good temper. 

Lord Stratford, and Lord Stratford only, is responsible for 
this. M. de Bruck and M. de "Wilclenbruck, the representa- 
tives of Austria and Prussia, have all along taken a pacific part, 
while M. de la Cour, a French diplomatist of high reputation, 
was displaced solely because his opinions clashed with those 
of the British ambassador. M. de la Cour recommended 
peace and patience ; it is scarcely surprising that a gallant 
and enterprising French general should desire war \ — but 
not even with General Baraguay D'Hilliers has the repre- 
sentative of Great Britain been found to act in concert. 

We had nothing to fear by leaving Russia alone ; the 
onward march of civilization and enlightenment would have 
soon rendered an absolute government impossible even there ; 
and from a progressive and commercial state we had only to 
expect friendship and good will : but it is a very serious 
business to go to war with a nation hardly a generation 
removed from barbarism, and the tide of human progress 
will roll back fifty years in every campaign. 

For the rest, it was but fair to judge the Emperor of 
Russia from the past. In 1848 he had a better chance than 
now, and he would hardly have freely chosen a time when 
all the world was at peace to commit an act which would 
probably result in a coalition against him. Experience has 
shown that he loved the triumphs of diplomacy better than 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



35 



those of the sword ; in the famous despatch of Count 
Nesselrode, in 1828, in the mouth-of-the-Danube question, 
and throughout his prudent conduct in Hungary. He was 
indeed trying to win an important diplomatic triumph, but 
he might have been easily frustrated by an able man, or even 
the fruits of his triumph might have been rendered worth- 
less by a subsequent good administration of affairs in 
Turkey. 

To reappoint Lord Stratford, however, at such a crisis, 
was to make a peaceful settlement of the question impos- 
sible. The Emperor of Russia had refused to receive his 
lordship as British ambassador at St. Petersburg, and the 
diplomatist was known to have a most bitter feeling of 
private enmity towards the autocrat ; our conduct was, 
therefore, simply sending to a haughty and exacting 
monarch his personal enemy to pacify him after a defeat: 
it was bringing a silly dispute to a crisis at a most unhappy 
time ; it was allowing two self-willed elderly gentlemen to 
get firmly by the ears, and the result is precisely what might 
have been anticipated. We had no reason to expect that a 
prince, however cool and able he might be, who had had his own 
way for thirty years, till he must have almost forgotten that 
he was mortal, and who was at the head of the vast resources 
of a mighty empire, should retire in a personal dispute with 
an English gentleman ; though he might have given up an 
impossible game in diplomacy as gracefully as a lost game at 
chess. 

It is for these reasons (concludes my infamous cousin), 
that I solemnly record my protest against this unholy war 
and its most intemperate author, and I declare my firm and 
honest conviction that his conduct has been an awful mistake, 
from the violence which first occasioned the angry departure 
of Prince Menschikoff to the wilful and criminal blindness 
which has brought about the revolt in Epirus and a probable 
war with Greece. 

(I have done ! Indeed, the utter extreme of my horror 
and amazement at the unparalleled atrocity of my cousin 
Tom would prevent me going on if I had a mind to do so. I 
trust, however, that I have held up the sentiments oi that 



36 PICTURES FROil 

cousin Tom to general execration, and that a warlike and 
heroic public will give me full credit for my difference of 
opinion with the peaceable and shabby fellow above men- 
tioned.) 



CHAPTER VII. 

Gallipoli. The deserted homes of England. Her Majesty takes leave 
of the Guards. Opinions of the British public with regard to 
Sinope. Conflicting statements. Surprise of the Turks to see us. 
Their politeness mingled with doubt. His highness the Sultan. 
Sardanapalus. The commissariat officers make their bow to the 
British public. Their ideas of campaigns chiefly derived from 
Chobham. Results of the diplomatic and spirited conduct pursued 
towards the Greeks. Advantages derived from dining at VeVy's. 
Distressing position of the commissariat officers soothed by the solid 
politeness of the army contractors. The words Bono Johnny pass 
into general use. The British army embraces teatotalism. 

And there were sad hearts in the lordly homes of England 
when it was known that the Queen had taken leave of the 
Guards, and there were scalding tears shed by wailing and 
deserted women, as they sobbed a last farewall to those near 
and dear to them, when the transports stood out to sea, 
and Britain sent her armies to the East. 

There was not a very clear idea of what we were going to 
fight about. We had indeed a feeling of hot indignation 
with respect to Sinope, but the Emperor of Bussia had scru- 
pulously avoided any individual or national cause of offence 
towards us. The conduct of Baron Brunnow, in London, 
had been as careful and conciliatory as that of M. Kisseleff, 
at Paris. There had been throughout an evident desire on 
the part of the Czar to preserve our friendship. To be 
sure, Sinope had been a bad business, but then the Bussians 
had their own account of it, and that was very different to 
ours. As regarded our own peculiar griefs, the bombard- 
ment of Odessa was at least a fair set-off for the loss of the 
Tiger. In fact, the whole affair was a complete puzzle ; but 
we sailed or steamed to Gallipoli nevertheless, and the 
Turks were more surprised than pleased to see us. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



37 



It is useless to talk about the enthusiasm of the Turks 
with respect to this war. From Abd-ul-Medjid to the water- 
carriers of Galata, and the Kurdish horseman whom Fatma 
Hanum brought to Constantinople as the price of her hus- 
band's pardon, nobody cared a button about anything but his 
individual pipes, coffee, and prosperity. If the Sultan could 
only have peaceably got rid of Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, 
anybody might have been monarch of Constantinople who 
pleased, providing also that they did not interfere with his 
dinner hour, and his few harmless pursuits. He was as in- 
different about power as Richard Cromwell, or the cardinal 
of York. There was, perhaps, scarcely an individual in 
Turkey who did not look at the arrival of the allies at 
Gallipoli in the light of a burthen and an insult. It ap- 
peared to them problematical if the Russians really even 
coveted any portion of their territory, saving those perplex- 
ing Principalities, which seemed always a bone of discord, 
without being the smallest use or profit to them. Here, 
however, were these dogs of Franks from the West, who had 
actually taken possession of their coasts and harbours, and 
were about to occupy their capital under the absurd pre- 
tence of being their friends, just as if anybody was ever the 
friend of anybody without being assured of some present 
and immediate gain in consequence. So reasoned the higher 
Turks ; and they reasoned rightly, according to their previous 
lights and experience. It must be remembered that there 
is no general public feeling in Turkey, because the people 
are altogether illiterate, and have no knowledge of public 
affairs whatever. 

Not the smallest arrangement had been made to receive 
the allies at Gallipoli, and those fine, active, able, commis- 
sariat officers were quite astonished to find that campaign- 
ing in the East was altogether a different thing to their 
charming experience at Chobham. Now also appeared re- 
freshing evidence of the diplomatic and spirited conduct 
which had been pursued towards the Greeks. That pesti- 
lent people persisted in annoying the allies in all sorts of sly 
out-of-the-way manners, and throwing all manner of petty 
obstacles in their way. 

Then it naturally occasioned the utmost surprise to our 



38 



PICTURES FROM 



intelligent British soldiery, that not a single man could be 
found who was able to converse fluently in a language so 
necessary to a liberal education as the English. There were 
one or two persons, indeed, who appeared to have picked up 
a few words of an uncouth French, but these words were of 
such uncertain meaning, and were spoken in such a guttural 
and alarming voice, that the oldest diner at Y try's could 
not make anything of them. But then, to be sure, all the 
waiters at Yery's spoke English. 

What was an excellent commissariat staff to do under 
circumstances so remarkable ? Why, rush of course wildly 
into contracts one day, and then, misled by Greek truths 
which were obligingly volunteered for their guidance, cancel 
those contracts on the day following in the most natural 
way in the world. They drove some of the Smyrna mer- 
chants almost wild with these singular vagaries ; and the 
agents of respectable men who were sent to wait on them 
for orders were quite confounded. The beauty of the whole 
thing was, too, that a steady export of provisions from 
Turkey had been allowed to go on all the winter, which 
was strangely supposed by many to account in some mea- 
sure for the present scarcity. 

The Pashas would have done anything for a quiet life, 
and a chance of the official peculations which they love ; 
but owing to their unaccountable ignorance of English 
which has been already pointed out, nobody could clearly 
understand anybody, so that there was more than the usual 
amount of energetic language than is even commonly spoken 
by strangers on their arrival in a foreign country — but 
nothing came of it. 

The English and French officers, however, fraternized 
very agreeably. The commissariat officers commenced those 
acquaintances with the merchants which were afterwards 
to ripen into such affectionate and profitable friendships. 
The manners and customs of the Turks were productive of 
much innocent hilarity. The words "Bono Johnny" first 
passed into general use, and were considered of a pleasant 
wit : so that, after a while, campaigning in Turkey was not 
thought such a bad thing after all, especially till the cholera 
came. The cholera came because, while our commissariat 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



39 



officers were thriving and getting on so delightfully, the 
sturdy British soldier fed but poorly, and slept worse. He 
also lost his porter, — not that there would have been the 
smallest difficulty in obtaining it, but there was a report 
that some of the generals professed teatotalism, and con- 
sidered the present as a valuable opportunity for propa- 
gating their principles, and furthering the cause of teatotalism 
all over the world, even where there was no tea. 

When the cholera broke out, nobody knew what to do 
with it, or how to treat it ; nobody understood the climate 
or diseases peculiar to the East. Nobody understood, till 
long afterwards, that a situation had been chosen noted for 
its insalubrity ; and Gallipoli became a sad scene of com- 
plaint and panic : while the Emperor of Russia learned, with 
much satisfaction, that we had come to grief, as might have 
been expected. This was the first of our disasters — a bad 
beginning ; yet what was to come afterwards showed that 
we might have turned it into a precious warning if we had 
only hearkened. 



CHAPTER VIIL 

The locusts, an episode, introducing the unexpected guests who arrived 
to devour the winter provisions of the British army. 

An Eastern summer is full of wonders, but perhaps our 
wandering armies saw no natural phenomenon more awful 
and appalling than those vast flights of locusts which came in 
with the cholera and warm weather, and where they found 
a garden — left a wilderness. 

I am riding along a pleasant hill-side towards the end of 
May. There is a sharp pattering noise, like that of April 
rain in Scotland, falling on the hard ground. I look atten- 
tively towards the earth, knowing that it cannot be a shower 
this clear balmy morning, and I see a countless multitude of 
little black insects no bigger than a pin's head. They are 
hopping and springing about in myriads under my horse's 



40 



PICTURES FROM 



feet, along the rocky road, which is quite black with them, 
and far away among the heather, which is turned black 
also. I ride miles and miles, yet the ground is still darkened 
with those little insects, and the same sharp pattering noise 
continues. They are the. young of the locusts who left their 
eggs in the ground last year : they have just come to life. 
Three days ago there was not one to be seen. 

A little later, and I am passing through a Greek village. 
The alarm has spread everywhere, and the local authorities 
have bestirred themselves to resist their enemies while still 
weak. Large fires are burning on the banks of a swift river, 
and immense cauldrons full of boiling water are steaming over 
them. The whole country side has been out locust-hunting : 
they have just returned with the result of their day's 
exertion. Twenty-three thousand pounds' weight of these 
.little insects, each, as I have said, no bigger than a pin's 
head, have been brought in already in one day. They have 
been caught in a surface of less than five square miles. 
There has been no difiiculty in catching them, — children. of 
six years old can do it as well as grown men. A sack and 
a broom are all that is necessary ; place the open sack on the 
ground, and you mayj weep it full of locusts as fast as you can 
move your arms. Tue village community pay about a 
farthing a pound for locusts. Some of the hunters have 
earned two or three shillings a day. As the sacks are 
brought in, they are thrust into the cauldrons of boiling 
water and boiled each for some twenty minutes ; they are 
then emptied into the rapid little river swollen by the melt- 
ing of mountain snows. 

My Albanian Hamed watches these proceedings from his 
embroidered scarlet saddle with much and melancholy 
gravity. " Ah ! " he says, " if there was but one dervish or 
good man among those rogues, he could pray them away in 
an hour. There are no locusts in my village because we have 
a dervish — a saintly man there." 

It appears that no dervish comes ; and the plague goes on 
spreading daily from village to village, from town to town. 
This is the fourth year since they first appeared at Mitylene, 
whence I am writing. It is said that they seldom remain at 
one place longer, but that in the fourth generation the race 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



41 



dies out, unless it is recruited from elsewhere. I am not 
aware whether this is a mere popular superstition, or a fact 
based on experience. They show, however, certainly, no 
symptom of weakness or diminution of numbers. In ten 
days they have increased very much in size, they are now as 
long as cockchafers, only fatter. They seem to be of several 
distinct species. Their bodies are about an inch and a half 
long, but some are much larger round than others. They 
have six legs. The hind legs of the largest kind are nearly 
three inches long, or twice the length of the body. They 
have immense strength, and can spring four or five yards at 
a time. The legs are terminated by sharp long claws, and 
have lesser claws going about half way up at the sides of 
them. Their hold, therefore, is singularly tenacious. Their 
heads and shoulders are covered with a kind of horny armour, 
very tough. Some are of a bright green colour all over : 
some have brown backs and yellow bellies, with red legs, 
and are speckled not unlike a partridge. Some are nearly 
black all over and have long wings. The largest species 
have immensely long feelers projecting out near the eyes. 
I noticed some of these feelers twice the length of the rest 
of the body. The bite of the largest kind is strong enough 
to bend a pin. This locust has immense sharp tusks furnished 
with saws inside. His mouth opens on all four sides and 
closes like a vice. His eyes are horny and he cannot shut 
them. The largest kind have two short yellow wings, and a 
long pointed fleshy tail ; the smallest have four long black 
wings, and no tail. The head is always large in com- 
parison to the body, and not unlike that of a lobster. In 
moving its scales it makes a noise like the creaking of new 
leather. 

The locusts are on the wing, they have risen from the ground 
into the air ; they darken the sky in their steady flight for 
hours, and they make a noise like the rushing of a mighty 
wind. Far as the eye can see over the land and water 
broods the same ominous cloud. The imagination refuses 
to grasp their number : it must be told by millions of 
millions. Count the flakes of a snow-storm, the sands by the 
sea-shore, the leaves of summer trees, and the blades of grass 
on dewy meadows. For days and days the locust storm 



42 



PICTURES FEOM 



and the hot south wind continued. At night they 
descended on the gardens and corn-fields. They strug- 
gled for pre-eminence on the points of palings, and the top- 
most overlooked the rest with extraordinary gravity. They 
crawled and hopped loathesomely on fruit and flower. They 
got into eggs and fish, which became uneatable in con- 
sequence. There was no help against them because of 
their multitude. They ate holes in my bedding, they got 
into my pockets, and into my hair and beard. The Greek 
women were obliged to tie their trowsers on above their 
gowns, as a protection against them. You trod upon them, 
they blew against you, they flew against you, they dined off 
the same plate, and hopped on a piece of food you were 
putting into your mouth. Their stench was horrible, and 
this lasted for weeks. 

I was tempted to impale one of them as a specimen, and 
left it sticking on a pin in the wall. Hained slyly removed 
it, believing the proceeding to be a charm, or magical device 
to counteract the designs of heaven. 

" It is God's will ! " he said, sententiously, when I found 
him out and reproached him. 

So they ate up the corn lands and the vineyards whither- 
soever they fell. I counted nine on one blade of wheat. 
"When they left it, it was as bare as a quill ; and so they 
devoured the soldier s bread. 

" They have still left your apples untouched," I said to a 
gardener. 

" Helas ! " replied the man, sobbing ; " they have eaten up 
all beside, and what is the use of your eyebrows if you have 
lost your eyes " 

Three days after they had eaten his apples also. 

I noticed, however, that in the years the locusts appear 
there is no blight, or smaller insects about ; perhaps, there- 
fore, they are mercifully sent to destroy the smaller and more 
dangerous insects when they have multiplied exceedingly 
under the prolific suns of the East. 

But they are a dreadful visitation. They ate holes in my 
clothes as I walked about ; they got among Hamed's arms ; 
they choked up the barrels of his pistols, and fed upon his 
sash of silk and gold ; they ate away the tassel of bis cap 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



43 



and the leathern sheath of his sword. My French debardeur 
dressing-gown, one month from Alfred's, might have been 
taken for a recent purchase at rag fair. They ate the sole 
of my slipper while I was asleep on a sofa ; they ate my 
shirts in the wardrobe, and they ate my stockings. Hamed's 
" good man" never arriving, he catches many, and puts 
them out of the- window with much tenderness. The Pasha, 
my host, with a touching faith in the goodness of God, goes 
about with a long stick to save them from drowning, when 
they are driven by the winds into his reservoir of gold fish. 

I cannot help thinking the Pasha is right, but I cannot 
be so good as he is. For the locusts eat the back hair off 
the women's heads while washing at the fountain, and the 
moustachios of the gardeners while they sleep in the noon- 
day shadow. They strip trees till they look as if struck by 
lightning or burnt by fire. I see the plants green and gay 
in the moonlight, in the morning their freshness and beauty 
have departed. 

Families sit wailing in their fields over the ruin of their 
little all. There is a story that the locusts have eaten a 
child while its mother was away at work ; there is a tradi- 
tion that they once ate a drunken man who fell down in the 
kennel. Neither event is improbable. I saw a locust draw 
blood from the lips of an infant in its mother's arms. 

They will not die. They seem to have neither sight nor 
hearing ; vile things with nothing but mouths. If you 
catch one he will spring from your hold, and, leaving his 
legs behind him, go on as well as ever. The cadi had a 
little garden ; he had it watched day and night, for it was 
his pride, and full of far-away flowers. He kept fires sur- 
rounding it constantly, to prevent the locusts crawling in. 
When they had learned to fly, he fired guns to turn aside 
their course ; when they came in spite of this, he turned a 
garden engine upon them ; then he buried them, but every 
green thing and every blossom was stripped from his garden 
for all that. 

They will not die ; they can swim for hours. Hot 
water, cold water ; acids, spirits, smoke are useless. I plunged 
one in salt and water ; he remained four minutes, and sprang 
away apparently uninjured. I re-caught him, and smoked 



44 



PICTURES FROM 



him for five minutes ; two minutes afterwards he had revived 
and was hopping away. I re-caught the same locust, and 
buried him as deeply in the ground as I could dig with a 
pocket-knife ; I marked the place, and the next morning I 
looked for my friend, but -he was gone. Nothing will kill 
them, but smashing them to a jam with a blow, or boiling 
them. There is no protection against them. They despise 
and eat through the thickest cloths or sacking, or matting, 
and glass coverings for a large extent of ground would be of 
course too expensive. The only way in which one of my 
neighbours was enabled to save part of his harvest, was by 
gathering his fruits, and cutting down his corn immediately 
the locusts came, and then burying his property in holes 
dug in the ground, and covered over with a heavy stone at 
the aperture, as I had seen the peasantry do in some parts of 
"Western Africa. This saved him a little ; no barn or room 
would have done so. 

Yet another three weeks, towards the end of July, and 
the cloud which has hovered over the land so long is clearing 
away ; and there arises a great wind, so that the locusts 
are swept off in countless armies to the sea, and drowned. 
It is impossible to bathe for days, or to walk by the sea- 
shore, because of the stench of them. But they are gone, 
and their bodies float over the sea like a crust, extending to 
the opposite coast of Asia Minor. 

I found out, while busy with this subject, that the locusts 
were supposed to have come from Asia Minor to Mity- 
lene ; that when they first appeared on the northern coast 
of the island, they were few in number, a greater portion of 
the flight which settled here having been probably drowned 
on their passage. It was not till the third year that they 
became so many and mischievous as to cause alarm. Their 
devastations were principally confined to the vines and 
olives, afterwards they grew more general. 

Last year, the inhabitants, dreading their return, endea- 
voured to take timely precautions for their destruction. 
There was some difficulty about this, however. It was 
necessary to apply to the Turkish local authorities ; the 
local authorities were obliged to refer the matter to the 
grand Sheik-ul-Islam, who published a fetfah or decree on the 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



45 



subject ; but the fetfah was not obtained without a great 
deal of importunity, as it was believed by many learned 
doctors that the demand was altogether contrary to Moslem 
law. However, as the ravages of the locusts continued to 
increase to an extent which seemed to menace the revenue 
derived from the island, a fetfah was at last issued. In virtue 
of this, permission was given to destroy the locusts, by all 
means save those of fire and water. It was necessary to evade 
this provision, however, since fire and water were universally 
acknowledged as the only effectual means of destruction to 
be found. 

The matter was now made the subject of a fixed legal 
i-egulation, by which every family was required to destroy 
from (about) twelve to twenty-five pounds weight of locusts, 
according to their number, for the common benefit. Some of 
the villages where labour was scarce paid this tribute in 
money. Twopence a pound was first given for locusts, but 
the price afterwards sank to a farthing. The efforts of some 
places were, however, defeated by the indifference or super- 
stition of others, so that labour, time, and money were all 
lost. More than 700,000 lbs. weight were destroyed with- 
out any visible effect on their numbers. Their weight at 
this time was about 270 to the ounce. 

The Turks resolutely refused to assist in these proceed- 
ings. They looked upon the visitation as the will of God, 
with which it would be impious to interfere. The captain of 
a Turkish man-of-war seeing a locust drowning in the sea, 
bade his favourite coffee-boy plunge into the water to 
save it. 

Some of the uneducated Greeks also had their own 
peculiar way of going to work. They insisted that the 
locusts had arrived in punishment for the sins of the commu- 
nity, and consequently that human efforts against them 
would be in vain. It appeared to them that public prayers 
and processions were much more reasonable. They also 
applied to a certain St. Tryphon on the subject, for St. 
Tryphon is the recognised patron and protector of fields and 
plants. They likewise sent a deputation to Mount Athos, 
requesting St. Tryphon to come and pass a few days at 
Mitylene, but without effect. 



46 



PICTURES FROM 



It has been noticed that the locusts appear invariably about 
the middle of May, and die or depart in August. They are 
most mischievous during the month of June ; they have an 
objection to damp or marshy grounds. The females bury 
themselves in the earth when dying, probably to conceal 
their eggs. The males die above ground, where the ants 
and smaller insects speedily devour them. Neither rain nor 
cold, however severe, appears to destroy or injure the eggs, 
which lie in the ground like seed during the winter, and 
burst forth into life in the first warmth of summer. Each 
female is understood to have about fifty young, which in 
some measure accounts for their astounding increase. They 
require about twenty days to attain their full growth, some- 
times longer, if the weather is unfavourable. 



CHAPTER IX. 

Constantinople. Pera. Eastern contrasts. The theatre. A Turkish 
gentleman. Pleasant practical joke of a young British officer in a 
foreign country. Admiration of the same by Levantines. Specu- 
lating ladies. English sailors and French soldiers fraternising. 
Their cordiality. Their musical entertainment interrupted by an 
Italian waiter. Prompt confusion of the latter. The merchant 
diplomatist and the diplomatist of Navarino and Sinope. Well- 
earned popularity of the Duke of Cambridge. Officers in the service 
of the King of Candy. The Pera belles. A short pipe. Our golden 
and buttony friends of the commissariat again. An autumnal prima 
donna. " Aristocratic birds." Improper elderly French banker. 
The Adonis of Galata. His pugnacious propensities. Paucity of 
policemen. Humanity mongers. An important butler. A ruina- 
tion shop. The streets of Pera by night. Palace of silence. 

There is a clumping of clogs about the uneven streets, 
and two or three sedan chairs of very great ladies move 
dripping along. Invalided officers, full of bad wine and 
good spirits, roll along, arm in arm, laughing and discoursing 
wildly, being firmly persuaded, of course, that not one of 
those young Perotes, who are watching them so eagerly as 
models of manners, can understand a word they utter. 




STREET IN CONSTANTINOPLE. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



47 



Well, confidence is a good thing, and so is freedom of 
speech, especially when it is not all on one side. 

Sometimes a deep growl of impatience may be heard from 
some strapped- down and buckled-up elderly beau, whose 
e} es are not so good as they were twenty years ago, and 
' who has either stuck in the deep bog of mud which fills the 
middle of the street, or fairly tumbled over, umbrella and 
all, in an unsuspected hole. Young ladies who have come 
out on matrimonial speculations from Clapham or Hack- 
ney, are anxious about their back hair and garnet brooches 
amidst all this provoking rain and unmannered hustling. 
They have, however, an opportunity of displaying some 
remarkably neat twinkling ankles, which contrast agree- 
ably with the splay feet and awkward waddle of the 
Greeks, so that they may be consoled. MM. Demetraki 
and Stavro Somethingopolis, two half-civilised natives, who 
have been half-educated somewhere in Europe, especially 
with respect to billiards and ecarte, are raving out atrocious 
French in frantic accents to attract attention, and laughing 
at nothing whenever their tongues tire, till the street rings 
again with discordant echoes. They are dressed within an 
inch of their lives in the last style of some Smyrna or 
Athenian Moses and Sons. They are the very embodiment 
of insolent bad taste. But way for a pasha, probably one 
of the ministers who has been on an embassy to Europe, and 
preserved his taste for evening entertainments. He comes 
plashing through the mire at a stately tramp, and mounted 
on a haughty Arabian horse, which tosses its small, beautiful 
head disdainfully from side to side. He carries an ample 
umbrella, and his toilette is so elaborately clean and spark- 
ling, that he quite glitters under it. He is evidently a man 
of high rank. Cavasses, all blazing with gold, precede him, 
and pipe-bearers hem him round, while some officer of his 
overgrown household throws the strong light of a many- 
candled lantern to illuminate his way. He is, in short, the 
very pink of Oriental swellism — a Turkish gentleman of the 
most polished kind. He little knows, as he puffs out his 
chest, and goes parading along, what is about to happen to 
him when he passes that group of wild young officers, fresh 
from dinner. See one of them, a rollicking young giant, 



48 



PICTURES FROM 



some seven feet high, looks for a moment at the pasha's 
immense lantern — then there is a dare-devil twinkling in 
his eye, which assuredly bodes mischief, and the next 
moment the pasha's lantern is pierced through, twirling 
round aloft on the top of a walking-stick. Hooray ! shouts 
our lengthy acquaintance ; there is a storm of astonished 
laughter from a crowd of admiring witnesses — especially, of 
course, from MM. Demetraki and Stavro Somethingopolis, 
who are quite wild with delight at the freak ; yet I should 
like to see that young officer obliged to sell out, and go 
home, as a dangerous international mischief-maker ; for see, 
the stately Turk has turned rein, and is riding home with a 
beard positively bristling with anger. 

In a word, it is about seven o'clock in the evening, of a 
pouring day, and the polite or unpolite world of Pera are 
going, as best they can, to the opera. I cannot say that 
the opera of Pera absolutely claims a visit from the 
enlightened traveller. There is an unhealthy smell of dead rats 
about it — a prevailing dampness and dinginess — a curious fog, 
a loudness, a dirtiness — which induces me, generally, to prefer 
an arm-chair and a dictionary, a cup of tea and a fire ; 
but I am going to-night, because my books are all packed 
up, and my servant has gone out for a holiday to carry 
small scandals to his acquaintances. I have also been eating 
a most detestable farewell dinner at a roguish pastry-cook's ; 
and my companions have borne me off, whether or not. 

The howling and steaming of the unwashed crowd at the 
theatre doors is altogether so powerful, that we adjourn 
to the theatre coffee-house, and discuss a glass of punch and 
a cigar till it has subsided. Some British sailors and French 
soldiers are fraternizing. They are singing Wapping songs 
and French chansonettes, at the same time. They are 
happy, but noisy — very noisy ; and not only drunk, but 
how drunk ! A waiter mildly suggests to one of them, in 
Italian, that the temple of harmony is next door, and that 
they are disturbing the potations of the rest of the company. 
He pertinaciously persists in repeating this. Never did a 
waiter so nearly get knocked down for an imprudence, or 
was so unconscious of his danger. He smiled while a dis- 
cussion was going on, under his nose, as to the propriety of 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



49 



his being promptly " spiflicated," or ecrase ; and the 
debaters were men of few words ! At last, however, he 
retires, still smiling, though rather askew and with a sense of 
failure ; for there is no mistaking the flashing eyes of the 
Frenchman, or the clenched fist of the tar, which terminates 
the expostulations. It is some time before a naval officer 
and I, who have taken great interest in the proceedings, can 
so far tranquillise the sailor and soldier, who were singing, 
as to prevail on them to resume their strains, instead of 
inflicting summary chastisement on the white-waistcoated 
official, who has indiscreetly meddled with them. I confess 
to a keen enjoyment of their songs. There is a fine raciness 
about those of the British tar, which it is positively invi- 
gorating to hear. I shall not have half so much fun in the 
theatre, where Mademoiselle Squallini, an autumnal prima 
donna from Islington, is tearing one of prolific Verdi's 
operas into shreds, and screaming in a manner which is 
inconceivably ear-piercing. However, I dare say she will 
not hurt us much after the first five minutes ; and they say 
she supports a mother, who is an invalid, and a brother, 
who is a cripple — so that we may pay our money cheerfully, 
and go in prepared for anything. 

We have got a box, but we must, nevertheless, pay about 
two shillings entrance-money at the door. It is a part of 
the system which pervades all things Turkish. ISTo affair 
can be settled at once, not even that of taking a box at the 
opera without a backsheesh here, and a visit there. We 
pay our money, however, after the handful of coin, from all 
quarters of the world, which forms the currency of the East, 
has been duly deciphered and undervalued, and we pass on. 
But as we decline to hire opera-glasses at twenty piastres 
for the evening, the box-keeper, on his part, declines to pay 
any further attention to us, and leaves us to find our way as 
best we can, merely putting a rusty key into our hands, and 
telling us a number. In consequence of this, we very natu- 
rally get into the wrong box, in every sense of the word. 
An extremely loud young Armenian, that is loud even for 
an Armenian, is seated here with a lady, who devotes her 
intelligent leisure to the sale of walking-sticks and cigars. 
She is a French lady, and we have seen her in a shop of the 

E 



oO 



PICTURES FROM 



Frank street, somewhere. The Armenian suspects us of 
sinister intentions against his domestic peace. He believes 
us to be Perot es, and consequently, that our ill-timed visit is 
a Perote witticism, or stupid intentional insult, and he 
charges down upon us like a very bantam cock of valour. 

" Vat, sares, here you vant ! Yat, sares, you here vant ! " 
he screams, in a thin, cracked voice, but in much indignation. 

" Ko bono, Johnny," replies a witty Briton of our party, 
good-humouredly ; and we retreat, leaving the Armenian 
youth much astonished, but pacified, at having been obvi- 
ously taken for an Englishman, owing to Ins perfection in 
the language. 

Let us look through the fog when we get seated at last, 
and see who is here. Opposite sits Baron Bmck, the kind- 
hearted and able Austrian merchant diplomatist, with 
genius and well-earned success stamped on every lofty and 
noble feature. There he is, gossipping and laughing in the 
midst of his family and a merry staff, having probably toiled 
enough through the day to enjoy his snatch of leisure 
heartily even here. There is a pleasant appearance of 
amusing themselves, a festival air about this unpretending 
little party of scholars and men of business, which it does 
one good to see. There, too, is his neighbour in the next 
box — a stern, scowling, sulky, pompous old man, all bile and 
verjuice and mystification. There are no smiling, happy 
faces round him, for the brightest spark grows dim near a 
wet blanket ; and his very toadies and led-captains sit 
cowering fearfully, and talking in whispers faint and few 
behind. He is also a great diplomatist — the diplomatist of 
Navarino and Sinope. 

There, too, in another part of the theatre, and as far off 
as possible, of course, sits His Eoyal Highness the Duke of 
Cambridge, with his fine, frank, open face, and joyous, fear- 
less eyes. l^ever was a prince who wore his rank so grace- 
fully — never was, perhaps, any general more popular with his 
troops and officers, or more universally beloved by all who 
come in contact with him — (no wonder he prefers bad quar- 
ters at a Pera hotel to the excruciating hospitality of Sir 
Hector Stubble !) Even envy itself forgets to snarl at the 
soldier duke, and the most rabid reform grows dumb about 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



51 



one of the best princes who ever stood near a throne. The 
rest of the audience is not very notable. There are a great 
many officers, lately in the service of the King of Candy, 
and, of course, the warm personal friends of that monarch, 
and who have, of course, broken out in astounding military 
jackets and caps ; but they are most of them fine dashing 
fellows for all that. These gentlemen are, of course, chiefly 
occupied with the Pera belles, on whom, however, they are 
not, perhaps, making the lively impression that they too 
fondly believe. For the Pera belle is a strange, odd, angular, 
unsexed sort of a lady, full of Greek sarcasm and politics, 
who discourses chiefly about the wrongs of the " oppressed 
Christians." They will lead the officers, lately in the service 
of the King of Candy, a singular, perhaps, a weary dance, 
but there it will end, much to the bewilderment of those 
magnificently-moustachioed gentlemen. 

The audience in the gallery is indecorous, to say the least 
of it. The sailors and soldiers from the coffee-house next 
door have come in, and are giving a private vocal entertain- 
ment of their own. The noises heard in the theatres of 
Portsmouth and Toulon are echoing briskly here, and I have 
twice heard the opening stanzas of " Will Watch, the bold 
Smuggler." Suppose we retire to the back of the boxes, and 
sit down cross-legged, a merry company of smokers. Most 
of us have a short clay in our pockets, according to the 
fashion of modern times, and we shall only be doing as folks 
are doing in the other boxes, whence the frequent crack and 
smell of lucifer matches comes so refreshingly. Then we 
shall go behind the scenes, not because there is precisely any 
pleasure in so doing, but because it is also the fashion — and 
a very violent fashion — in Pera. Highly-connected young 
gentlemen, mostly from the neighbourhood of Sloane Street 
or Putney, and belonging to her Majesty's commissariat, are 
displaying their intimate acquaintance with the elegant dis- 
sipations of London and Paris, and the dainty airs acquired 
during a previous life (of course), brimfull of the intoxicating 
sweets of aristocratic pleasure. There, then, are those "deuced 
gentlemanly birds," as I hear them calling themselves, in full 
bloom and full feather, gloved and varnished in the most 
violent manner. It is hard to know which they treat 

e 2 



52 



PICTURES FROM 



with the loftiest contempt, the Queen's English, the French 
grammar, or things in general. They have been spending 
some of their mysterious newly-acquired money in presents 
to the autumnal prima donna. They have been, also, throw- 
ing her showers of bouquets, and are now come to reap their 
reward, in the delectable smiles and conversation of that 
amiable and spirited lady. They do reap it ; and get on 
with her amazingly. The autumnal prima donna considers 
them the pink of fashion, and looks upon their homage as 
the most decided proof of her having made a triumphant hit 
among the fine world of Pera. It would appear, also, from 
their conversation, that the letter H is almost entirely 
banished from the places in our language where we have 
been accustomed to find it ; and a careful study of the pro- 
nunciation of these young bucks and bloods, as well as of the 
lady, instructs us to look for it henceforth elsewhere. An im- 
proper elderly French banker, who has been admitted to the 
intimacy of many generations of autumnal Pera prima donnas, 
and who has been the only fast young man in Pera, any time 
these forty years, finds himself quite cut out on his own 
ground — routed, indeed, ignominiously ; and he looks at the 
buttony waistcoats and amazing studs of his rivals with sour 
and envious glances. As for the ex-officers of the King of 
Candy, who are, of course, in great force, their caps and 
jackets are hardly noticed, and their conversation, with 
respect to the mysterious wealth of the young gents before 
mentioned, is more pungent and forcible than complimentary. 

" That young puppy," says General Slasher (Imperial 
Ottoman service) to Colonel Crasher, in the same army — 
" that young puppy, all studs and buttons, there, is the son of 
one of my uncle's bagmen. You know Sir John Stuffs and 
Co., of Manchester ; he set up for himself, and failed. Old 
Stuffs, who has three votes in the House of Commons — I 
wish I had — got one of the young cubs into the commissariat, 
and now I find him here swelling it, at the rate of a 
couple of thousand a year; riding thorough-breds, giving 
dinners, and coming out strong with theatre women. Put 
this and that together, and I think you'll agree with me, 
Crasher, my boy, that the commissariat wants looking after." 

Let us leave the caustic Slasher and the sneering Crasher. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



53 



The commissariat gents themselves will tell you, that there is 
no longer the tenth part of an abuse in their service — and they 
ought to know best ; and as to the ex-officers of the King 
of Candy, now in the Imperial Ottoman service, they des- 
pise their base insinuations, and can obviously aflord to do so. 

There is a row at the doors going out. Mr. William 
Sykes, the Adonis of Galata, is threatening to punch the 
head of a meek gentleman, in jean boots, whom he has never 
seen before ; and then bellowing out that he has made a 
mistake, bat that he will, nevertheless, punch the head of 
some person or persons unknown, who have, in some way, 
incurred his displeasure — a disagreeable thing enough where 
there is no police. 

Here is a crowd of humanity mongers, talking with their 
usual authoritative pomp, even here ; but startlingly ready 
to listen to invitations to dinner, nevertheless. Here are 
adventurers, with doubtful commissions from the Foreign 
Office, who have learned already the bullying of Oriental 
diplomacy, and are prepared to ride rough-shod over every- 
thing and everybody. There stands a man, wildly asking 
people to champagne and truffles, to get contracts for the 
army — and a very good business, too. Near him is a Rus- 
sian spy, adroitly pumping some man in office — perhaps, the 
butler of the British Embassy, also a great man. Let us 
make a night of it. Let us go to the roguish pastry-cook, 
who has established a sort of English club, which we shall 
find full of middies, having just received a tip from home, 
and our golden young friends from the theatre, who belong, 
naturally, to all places of Pera revelry. Everybody will be 
talking together, and there will be an immense consumption 
of cold game pies — price, four shillings each — and bottled 
beer, at a shilling. There will be also some bets about the 
taking of Sebastopol. But we need not stop long. We can 
go plashing, with our lanterns, through the sloppy streets, 
back to the palace of silence, when we will. The staff of 
the rheumatic watchman will smite the wet dark pavement 
with a clanking sound, and he will shout his night-cry 
through a cold, hoarsely ; but we must not be too hard on 
him. He is the same functionary who wandered through 
the streets of London not a generation ago. 



5i 



PICTUKES FROM 



CHAPTER X. 

Scutari. The hospitals. The caique. State of the streets. The 
climate. Advautages of secrecy in diplomacy. Results of the 
Frank invasion of the East. Tophana. His effulgent wonder. 
The Therapian ambassador. Samples of soldiery. Russian prisoners. 
Kindness of our soldiers to them. Improper conduct of the Turks. 
Prisoners' clothes. General surprise at their not speaking English. 
Fighting it out. Hospital sketches. Remarkable wounds. Average 
number of deaths. Manner of burial. Jocular old Scotch sergeant. 
Russian officers. Their various conduct under suffering. Their 
indifference. Their appetite. The French hospital. Its marked 
superiority. The Sisters of Charity. Military doctors. Their 
conduct to the sick. Gaiety of the convalescent. Instalments of 
glory. Death of Marshal St. Arnaud. 

It is a grey, dull September day, with a bleak bitter wind 
bowling about the streets (the same dreary uncomfortable 
wind which blows a fair half of the year at Constantinople), 
but I put on my great coat and goloshes, the ground being 
a regular slough of despond, and sally out, arm in arm with 
a Turkish colonel, to see the British sick and w^ounded, with 
a few Russian prisoners, who have just arrived at Scutari. 

Constantinople is hardly changed since I left it a year 
ago. It still gives refreshing evidence of its constancy to 
ancient usage. It clings to its hoary institutions with an 
ardour delightful to contemplate. It has the same dirt as 
vfhen I left, the same dogs, the same holes in the break-toe 
pavement, the same donkeys wedged in between long poles 
or iron rails, and striking terror into walker and horseman 
as they stagger along with their monstrous burthens. There 
may still be seen, by the observant traveller, the same bullock- 
cars and springless gilded inconveniences which pass for 
carriages, and there may still be felt the same joyless mizzle, 
so like that I remember in Edinburgh, that I can almost 
fancy it is another Scotch adventurer come out to make his 
fortune during the present crisis, and grown sulky at find- 
ing himself disappointed. In a word, the torrent of civiliza- 
tion has passed over the land without one fertilizing or 
genial effect. The genius of nonsense and secret . diplo- 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



55 



tnacy broods over the place, and one hears nothing but 
Greek truths, and sees nothing but intrigues and botheration 
from one end of the city to the other. Everybody is mysti- 
fied, and drearily does his best to mystify his neighbour. It 
must be allowed that everybody, also, succeeds pretty un- 
satisfactorily. I declare that it is a wonder even to me, 
bald-headed, elderly gent, as I am \ I say it is a wonder even 
to me, how the thousands upon thousands of warm-blooded, 
frank-hearted, gallant Englishmen and Frenchmen could have 
sojourned in this place, without having had a pleasanter 
effect upon it ; and it strikes me very forcibly that the 
genius of nonsense and secret diplomacy above mentioned 
must have a rank strength, indeed, to have forced beautiful 
Stamboul to remain the howling wilderness it is. We walk 
silently down to the filthy suburb of Tophana whilst I am 
musing thus, and then my companion hails for his caique. 
It is a fine boat, a boat with three pairs of oars, which is a 
mark that it belongs to a public officer of the first class. It 
costs my friend some fifteen pounds a month to maintain, 
and it was not bought for a song ; but it is like everything 
and everybody else in Turkey — never at hand when wanted. 
The boatmen are Greeks, and finding that there was a 
pretty brisk call for caiques this morning, they let them- 
selves and the colonel's boat out to a party of Britons, who 
have gone to pay a visit to his effulgent wonder, the 
Therapian ambassador. 

Let us take another boat and boatmen, for which we shall 
have to pay rather inconveniently, but they will row us 
through the shrieking wind, and over the ruffled waves, 
amid the stunning roar of salutes, and the hubbub of 
steamers as noisy, to the end of our journey. There are 
samples of British soldiers, with all sorts of uniforms and 
beards, lounging about at the landing-places ; and toiling 
along in the distance, comes boatful after boatful of the 
wounded. It is a sad sight enough to see them in every 
variety of constrained and unaccustomed attitude, to try 
and cheat their pain of something of its triumph. I notice, 
with some national pride, how carefully our soldiers lift the 
wounded prisoners out of the boats, how softly and kindly 
they speak to them, and try to soothe them in their rough 



56 



PICTURES FROM 



homely way ; no father ever carried his child with more 
manly tenderness than those two red-haired Irishmen are 
showing towards the poor Russian lad who is climbing up 
the hill between them. I am sorry to say, however, the 
Turks do not show the same chivalry of feeling as when 
Saladin sent his Hakim to Cceur de Lion. On the contrary, 
they appear very ill-disposed towards their prisoners, and I 
am informed that a Turkish soldier behaved, yesterday, with 
such brutality to a wounded Russian, that it became neces- 
sary to chastise him on the spot. I have only time to 
notice that the Russian prisoners are miserably clad, and 
that their uniforms are wretchedly thin and scanty. Those 
who are not wounded also look haggard and dirty, as it 
they had been faring hard. We present our cards to the 
commanding officer, a mild, pleasant, personage, and are 
admitted after some demur. The officer remarks that the 
Russians have had a great many visitors to-day, even more 
than he could wish, by which I am led to believe that some 
Turks have been misconducting themselves again, though I 
hope that this is not the case. It is a melancholy reflection 
that the squabbles and wrong-headedness of two irritable old 
persons should have brought on such a prodigious amount 
of human suffering as that I am now witnessing. We pass 
into the w r ards wdiere the sick are laid out. There is little 
or no accommodation for them, and their rough beds are 
j^laced in rows in the cold stone passages. ISearly all are 
lying on their backs, and most are evidently in fearful pain. 
Of the few who are not, one is whittling a stick, some are 
reading books, or scraps of newspapers, and one whose eye- 
balls are nearly starting out of his head, is devouring, rather 
than perusing, a letter from home. I have brought it him. 
Poor boy ! I know that home, and how one poor simple 
mother's heart will ache, and one girl's cheek grow pale, 
when it is known there that he is among the maimed. 

Some of the wounds are frightful. Most of the Russians 
have been shot in the back, or low dow r n in the legs. Our 
troops have all been wounded in front. One man, shot 
quite through the chest, is likely to recover ; another, who 
has had a ball for two clays in his brain, is also doing well 
since its extraction ! One man who was shot in the leg 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



57 



had such a hard sharp bone, that it split the ball which 
struck it into two halves, as if the lead had been severed 
with a knife, and he escaped without a fracture.' A rifle 
ball has completely scooped out the eyes of one man, doing 
him no other injury, so that he will recover. We have a 
great many officers wounded, nine in one regiment only. 
If we add to this, that there is a good deal of cholera and 
fever, general scarcity of accommodation and medical aid, 
we shall give too true an account of the British hospital at 
Scutari. I do not presume to say — I dare not even fancy 
to myself — at whose door may lie the amazing charge of 
negligence in this respect. I merely state a most melan- 
choly and self-evident fact. The average deaths are fifteen 
daily. It is a ghastly sight to see the old Scotch sergeant 
joking over the dead, with a fearful pleasantry, as they are 
being sewed up in sacks for burial. 

Let us go and see the Russian officers who have been 
taken prisoners. They are in a room apart, and three only, 
out of some ten or twelve, are wounded. One of the latter 
is a mere boy of about sixteen. He has been shot in the 
knee, and will probably have to undergo amputation, but it 
is touching to witness his courage and good humour. It 
seems to me as he lies there so young and fair, and feminine- 
faced, like the courage of a wife with her husband near her, 
in some time of pain and trial. Poor child ! He tells me, 
in German, that he has many relations, so many, he can 
scarcely count them ; and he opens his large eyes with such 
a winning archness as he speaks, that one can see at a glance 
he is some mother's darling. I watch the surgeon as he 
dresses the lad's hideous wound. Even he, accustomed to 
see acts of heroism every hour, nobler than those wrought 
on the battle-field, even he is moved by the boy's brave 
prattle. " Tell him, above all things," says the doctor, 
" not to move the bandages/' I am sorry to say some of 
the Russian soldiers have done so, apparently under the 
impression that we meant evil by them. Unhappily, 
too, we have nobody who can speak Russian at this 
moment. 

The next patient was a fierce, obstinate youth, who swore 
lustily, and bounced down, after submitting to be bandaged, 



58 



PICTURES FROM 



with very edifying pride and. impatience ; but the third, a 
fine handsome man, with the cold blue eye, which I think 
" distinguishes most of the Russians, lay on his back and glared 
horribly into vacancy. He never stirred while his wound 
was being dressed, nor seemed to notice us, and when we 
left him, glared still in the same fixed and fearful way as 
before. 

At the request of one of the British officers, T now inquired 
of the others if there was anything which they desired, and 
stated that if so their wants would be attended to with all 
possible courtesy and hospitality. They were all subalterns, 
however, and apparently felt their position very little ; after 
a short conversation amongst themselves, therefore, they 
announced that they would like some breakfast, which was 
their most pressing want for the moment, and some was no 
doubt brought to them, though I did not wait to see it. 
Indeed, the day was already waning fast, and we had an 
engagement to be at the French hospital at two o'clock ; 
so, getting back as quickly as we could, we found ourselves 
just in time to accompany one of the principal surgeons over 
the wards. The difference between a military nation and 
one that is not, made itself immediately apparent. We 
found things here in a very far better condition than at 
Scutari : there was more cleanliness, comfort, and attention ; 
the beds were nicer, cleaner, and better arranged. The 
ventilation was excellent, and, as far as we could see or 
learn, there was no want of anything. The chief custody of 
some of the more dangerously wounded was confided to the 
Sisters of Charity, of which an order (St. Vincent de Paul) 
is founded here. The courage, energy, and patience of these 
excellent women are said to be beyond all praise. I saw 
several fine healthy young persons, with that clear bright 
complexion which I think often goes with a good conscience, 
and which I have often observed seems a sort of prerogative 
of the French religieuse. It seemed to me that there must 
be a heart-rending story of pain and trial attached to some 
of them, so young and fair, so fitted to make a Paradise of 
home, and yet doomed to be homeless and unloved, for ever 
passing life in duties so stern and solemn. I fancied, too, that 
some of the poor fellows, grown used to those kind voices 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



59 



and gentle hands, would leave the hospital with a strange 
cold pang a few weeks hence. I know that I should, but 
for the talisman of another love, the only charm I can well 
believe would bear man harmless through such a trial. 

The French hospital presented a far different sight to the 
English one at Scutari. Ours was dull, silent, and wretched. 
Grim and terrible would be almost still better words. Here 
I saw all was life and gaiety. The presence of those neat, 
active, kindly women had done much. The innate joyous- 
ness of the French character had done more. There were my 
old acquaintances, the French soldiers, playing at dominoes 
or ecarte, by their bed-sides, and twisting paper cigarettes, 
or disputing together just as I have seen them anywhere 
else from Paris to Constantinople or Bona. I liked also to 
listen to the agreeable manner in which the doctor spoke to 
them. " Mon gar con," or 6i Mon brave," quite lit up when he 
came near with his humane and brotherly interest in them. 
I could not help noticing it. My acquaintance smiled — 
" It is not only as you observe," he said, " a national pecu- 
liarity with us to address persons in humble life with tender- 
ness, but in the army we are especially instructed to do so." 
The Sisters of Charity, however, spoke to the wounded in a 
manner which was still more happy and French. Their 
voices must have sounded to many a poor fellow with a 
lively imagination, like a foretaste of the glory and considera- 
tion he would meet with in his own village. Every word 
seemed to express such a true admiration for valour, such a 
gentle and special interest in the excellent enfant addressed, 
such a sweet readiness to listen to the slightest whisper from 
his parched lips, and such unwearied activity in ministering 
to the smallest of his wants. God bless those women, what 
a mission of mercy they are fulfilling now ! 

Hark to the deep roar of the guns as they come boom- 
ing over the sulky waters and through the heavy air. 
My companion pauses. " It is for the death of Marshal 
St. Arnaud," he says ; H his strange career is ended." And 
indeed it was so. The commander-in-chief of the French 
troops had died on his passage from the tents which are still 
menacing Sebastopol. It was said that he died of cholera, 
but that in reality had only shortened, by a few days, a life 



60 PICTURES FROM 

already hastening to its close. The fiat of the physician had 
gone before, and the French chief knew death to be so near, 
that in the battle which took place, not many hours before 
his death, he dared all manner of danger, seeking for a 
soldier's grave in the field, and it was denied him. 



CHAPTER XL 

The Black Sea. The commissariat again. Army contractors. Refrac- 
tory peasants bound for the goal of glory. The brave blue jackets. 
Miss Nightingale. Lady Stratford. Rambling Scutari. Leander's 
tower. The Bosphorus steamers. Rabble rout of a sea-port. An 
officer's widow. Unloading the transports. The Austrian Lloyd. 
The Stamboul. The British officer is hunted to the last by energetic 
laquais de place. Eastern delays. The villages of the Bosphorus. 
The palace of Sardanapalus. Diplomatic Therapia. Cockney 
Buyukdere. Reflections. Metaphysics taught by Pistacchio nuts. 
Hints for the outward-bound. The true use of the nose. Breakfast. 
Travellers' books. Appearance of the coast. Dishonest conduct of 
an Austrian Lloyd's officer. Amateur inspectors of the road. 

Now swiftly over the sulky December waters, past many a 
battered hulk which shows sad signs of the wild hurricanes 
in the Black Sea ; past transport-ships by the score, and 
smug oily commissariat officers a little the worse for yester- 
day's dinner and evening entertainment, but keeping good 
hope of an appetite again by-and-by at the hospitable board 
of a contractor ; past barges with a score of extremely dirty 
fellows in fezzes and baggy breeches, toiling at a multitude 
of oars, and slowly labouring along towards some ship bound 
for Sebastopol, there to give up their dismal and dis- 
heartened cargo of astounded and refractory peasants from 
the far away interior, and who are bound, chiefly against 
their wills, for the goal of glory. 

Away past men-of-war with jovial officers chatting to 
admiring visitors over the ship's side, and making but light 
of the dangers they bore so nobly yesterday, and will court 
again to-morrow. 

One's very heart warms towards the blue jackets, and 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



61 



one cannot help contrasting their frank, open, fearless looks 
with the anxious, sly, shuffling demeanour of those feasting 
commissariat gentry who pulled on in stealthy talk with the 
wily merchant just now. 

And salutes are firing from ship and battlement, and 
gentle ladies of high degree flit swiftly by us in their gilded 
boats to visit the sick at Scutari, I vow and declare there 
goes Miss Nightingale, and yonder in the grand official 
caique floats kind Lady Stratford and her daughters fair. 

They are braving wind and weather, as they have been 
doing ever so long on the same good errand — to carry to 
the sad couch of the wounded in a distant land the meet 
tribute of woman's sympathy and admiration. 

Let us look our last at a scene which has surely grown on 
my mind like affection for a friend. There stands rambling 
Scutari dismal enough, though the neighbourhood around is 
beautiful. Yonder is Leander's tower, with its sweet legend 
of captive beauty and conquering love. There is the 
ricketty old wooden bridge, my favourite walk so long ; there 
go fussing and puffing away the busy little steamers for 
Therapia, and the villages of the Bosphorus. 

I see through my glass that the shore is as usual, crowded 
with a rabble rout of Greeks, Jews, Armenians, sailors, 
soldiers, tinkers, tailors, suttlers, gaily-dressed young ladies 
of forward demeanour, and all the dirty crowd of a sea- 
port, 

There some tearful widow, who has left her world behind 
her on the hard-fought field or beneath the stormy sea, is being 
assisted into a boat by some kind friend, whose stout arm is, 
may be, trembling almost as much as the weak pale hand 
which is laid upon it. She is going on board the English 
steamer, and is about to return to her mockery of a home, 
now lonely ever more, in the fatherland. She will keep 
holy the memory of the brave man whose living love was 
hers, and who died, may be, with her name the last words 
upon his lips after the forward shout of battle. 

There are horses embarking and disembarking, and fat 
bales of costly merchandize, toiling along near the smart boats 
of sea-captains, and the flashing caiques of pashas or minis- 
ters. Here raves a Frenchman, there roars a German, 



62 



PICTURES FROM 



or yells a Greek, and the shrill boatswains whistle o'er the 
deep. 

I have ever been of opinion, as gentle Goldsmith says, 
that a steamer is, upon the whole, as dirty and inconvenient 
a place of abode as need be ; but of all the steamers with 
which it was ever my misfortune to become acquainted, I 
have not the smallest hesitation in asserting that the 
Austrian Lloyd boat, the Stamboul, plying between Varna 
and Constantinople, is by very many chalks the dirtiest and 
most inconvenient. 

I scrambled, and tumbled, and slipped, through a variety 
of people and things, however, and got footing on it at last. 
The decks were cleared of laquais de place, who had been 
forgotten, and who had come to claim some preposterous 
little account which had been forgotten too, according to the 
custom of their tribe. The last Greek huckster had given 
his last wily counsel to his supercargo, and the last Jew had 
wrangled with the last, boatman, who, Greek as he was, 
wearied soon in the contest. We are off ! 

Oh, no ! We should have been off anywhere but in 
Turkey; as it is, however, we beat about for several hours in 
the cheerfulest and most obliging manner, to wait for some 
impossible person, who finally aj^pears to change his mind 
and decline making the voyage with us. 

It is the dusk of the evening, therefore, when we at last 
flit rattling down the Bosphorus, and already our keel leaves 
a bright track of phosphoric light over the darkening sea, 
like the steps of a water fairy. 

Away past the sweet villages on the shore, where I have 
whiled away so many an enchanted summer afternoon, their 
ghosts seem to haunt me reproachfully. Away past tower 
and fort, and sleepy hollow ; by the low rambling pictu- 
resque wooden houses of the great pashas, with their barred 
and guarded harems, and by quiet cemeteries with their 
turbanecl dead ; by the palace which Sardanapalus is 
building, and by the ancient tomb of the famous Lesbian 
Admiral Barbarossa. the conqueror of Algiers ; past 
diplomatic Therapia and Cockney Buyukdcre, and so out 
into the Black Sea, as the moon rises mournfully and 
mistily. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



G3 



There is something about that moon which I cannot bear 
to-night, lest a full heart should run over ; for I have been 
two years, or thereaway, in the East, and two years are quite 
an era in the life of the mind and the affections. 

I remember well with what fine hopes, cheerful and 
earnest, I then saw the seven-hilled city rise from the golden 
waters, as we bore in after a stormy voyage one bright 
spring morning. I reflect with a sigh that is well nigh 
stifling, how those hopes have turned to ashes one by one. 
But who among us can look back on such a multitude of 
days quite calmly 1 And the fact is, I am by no means certain 
that disappointment is not the salt of life ! What a weary 
world it would be, oh, dear ! if everything always went on 
happening just as we had foreseen, and we made our own 
fate every time we had a fit of indigestion ! I mention this 
period because, I take it, a man is wiser then than at other 
times, and more inclined to " make his fate." When he is 
quite at his ease he does not think much about it, and that is 
far the best way. A German philosopher used to say that 
a boar's head and Pistacchio nuts taught metaphysics better 
than all the wrangling in the schools. Perhaps, however, 
on the whole, it is quite as well not to inconvenience oneself 
by the acquisition of knowledge on such terms. 

The captain of our steamer is a gaunt melancholy Don Juan 
sort of man, and I see that he has been alarmed by the late 
accidents on these coasts. So have we, and it is therefore with 
some inward satisfaction, though we would scorn to express 
it, that we see he is making all taut and trim in case of a 
sudden storm in the night. Some light skirmishing clouds 
to the northward look rather like mischief; but suppose we 
go down stairs and have our supper. We shall find, to be 
sure, nothing, but a rather powerful species of cheese ; how- 
ever, that is better than nothing, and a short pipe with 
some brandy and water afterwards, will quite warm our 
noses, which are cold, and I am sorry to think have been so 
for some time. And here I wish to improve the occasion, 
by hinting to the docile traveller, that one of the most 
dangerous things he can allow to occur to himself in Turkey 
is in any way to get chilled. I would also suggest that the 
nose, especially if long, is an excellent natural thermometer 



64 



PICTURES FROM 



always at hand, when you like to touch it. Now if the 
temperature of the nose is colder than that of the finger, 
under ordinary circumstances, if it tingles or otherwise 
misconducts itself in any way whatsoever, the possessor of 
that nose, if a judicious man and willing to be guided by the 
councils of experience, will immediately warm it, either by 
active exercise, or on the most reckless anti-teetotal prin- 
ciple. I am, however, rather inclined to advise the latter 
method, supposing the said possessor of the said nose to have 
already tired himself on the slippery deck of a Varna steamer, 
and being otherwise disposed for rest as we were. We passed 
Burgas in the night, and were dashing away merrily enough 
over waters hardly disturbed by a ripple when I awoke in 
the morning. I was first up of our party, as I ought to 
have been, for I had slept in far more agreeable quarters. 
They had retired, uncomplaining, to the dismal little holes in 
the wall, which the steward had ruthlessly pointed out to 
them. I on the contrary had taken that functionary aside, 
and held sweet converse with him, till he was thereby in- 
duced to make me up a very jolly little bed on one of the 
sofas in the cabin, where I had more leg and elbow room, 
though I am bound to confess that the odour of the power- 
ful cheese we had for supper was audible during a part of 
the night, say till I got used to it, or went to sleep. 

We had a pretty good breakfast, the ship's cook being a 
deacon of his craft. There was ham, fish, beefsteaks, caviar, 
maccaroni, and the sort of things it requires a traveller's 
appetite to put under his waistcoat at ten o'clock in the. 
morning. I wonder what one would say at such a diet at 
the end of a London season, and in Pall Mall, or St. J ames's- 
street. 

The steamer library was also remarkably good, and very 
well chosen. There were just the kind of books that give 
spice and zest to a journey in a half-civilized country. Cooper, 
Scott, Washington Irving (the kindest, gentlest, most 
amusing of all the rovers that have ever roved or written). 
There were also Leake's Travels in Greece, and the transac- 
tions of some German antiquarian society, for those fond of 
solid things when sea-sick. 

I do not know that anything occurred during our voyage 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



65 



worth notice, except that we met some immense flocks of 
migratory wild ducks, bearing with quivering flight and out- 
stretched bills, away for the marshes of Bulgaria and the 
Principalities. 

We had a discussion with one of the officers about our fare, 
however, and I note it, because the same thing has occurred 
to me before on these Lloyd's boats, and cries loudly foi 
notice. We had been unable from want of time to take our 
passage at Constantinople, and consequently had to pay on 
board ; the officer, an ill-conditioned fellow, if ever there 
was one, determined to turn this circumstance to account, 
and mulcted us of precisely two shillings in every Turkish 
pound above the exchange at Yarna or Constantinople ! 

This wants sadly looking into, and therefore it is well to 
be explicit, and repeat, that the boat to which I refer, was 
the Stamboul, which left Constantinople on the 8th Decem- 
ber, 1854 \ and the officer, whose misconduct was very gross, 
was not one of the stewards, who are apt enough to do such 
things, but one of the superior officers appointed by the 
company, and wearing their uniform. 

It has been objected to these kind of details, that they 
show something like a settled intention to complain. Well, 
be it so. A traveller who only complains of things really 
wrong, cannot complain too much. The fact is, far too few 
people will take the trouble to complain, and therefore 
folks should be the more obliged to those who will ; and the 
more amateur inspectors of roads and other things we have 
perambulating the world, the better. 



F 



66 



PICTURES FROM 



CHAPTER XII. 

Varna. Its dirt is Turkish, not peculiar. Our historical friend William 
the Conqueror appears unexpectedly. Military preparation. Body 
guard of the King of Candy, and warm personal friends of that 
monarch. The commissariat are not cavaliers. General OTlannigan 
and his staff. Their rows with consuls. Their pluck and spirit. 
Their opinions on things in general. French officers. Chances of 
promotion. French privates. Their prosiness. Politeness. British 
soldiers. An Irish gentleman. The doctors. Greek fire. More 
agreeable evidence of the results of our spirited conduct. Army 
chaplains. Italian hucksters. Military messes are broken up. 
The interpreter of the British consulate. His house. Away. 

It is said that Varna has about it a dirtiness peculiarly its 
own, but I incline to the opinion that it is merely Turkish, 
and that there is nothing at all remarkable about it. We 
landed not without some difficulty and danger, and then 
immediately took possession of the country by tumbling 
down very much in the same manner as that which our 
historical friend William the Conqueror turned to such 
famous account ; that is to say, we slipped up in the mud, 
and extremely foul, black, slimy mud it was. 

The note of military preparation was pealing everywhere. 
Gents belonging to the commissariat, and unused to riding, 
were holding on to the pummels of their saddles, and jogging 
about uncomfortably in many directions, or carried on those 
eternal sly conversations with cunning men, in corners and out- 
of-the-way places. Officers in astounding uniforms, supposed 
to be those of the body guard of his majesty the King of 
Candy, in whose service they had been, and obtained all 
sorts of rank, honours, and decorations, were twirling their 
moustaches, and conversing together in groups. I never saw 
so many colonels and generals at once in all my born days. 
You could not request the dingiest individual to make 
way for you on the narrow foot-paths, without having your 
breath taken away by a nudge from your friend's elbow, 
and a hurried whisper of " General OTlannigan ! take 
care ! " 

It is one of the few pleasant features of the war, that it 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



67 



has used up a great number of these worthies, and given 
them some chance of doing reputably in life ; a chance which 
otherwise, and in our unsatisfactory state of society, they 
could hardly have had. 

Most of them, indeed, look like men who do not tub of a 
morning, and there is an odd sort of greasiness about them, 
in spite of their surprising caps and jackets ; but one feels 
pretty sure that they would do uncommonly good service in 
the field. 

I soon learnt, too, something of friendship, if not admira- 
tion, for those brave, dashing, hair- brained free lances, who 
had filled distant lands with marvellous tales of their reckless 
gallantry, and who were prepared to endure cold, famine, 
and privation of many kinds, with the fag-end of a comic 
song always on their lips, or a mere bit of rhodomontade, 
which hurts nobody. 

It was refreshing to see many a rollicking Irishman, or 
canny lad from beyond the Tweed, who had probably ob- 
tained an introduction into public life by means of the cutty 
stool, and who had long been the reproach and scandal of his 
elders. It was refreshing, I say, to see them shining away 
here as pashas, and knights, and generals. They were quite 
in their element. They could do the bullying — which, I am 
afraid, is necessary in Turkey — quite naturally ; and their 
very faults (mostly allied with kindness of heart and natures 
really genial, and gentle as those of children,) looked like 
positive virtues, when contrasted with the black, unredeemed 
corruption around them. 

There they were — eating and carousing together, like 
gipsies or moss-troopers ; drinking brandy and water to 
keep off cholera, out of their embroidered caps, and cutting 
up tough fowls with their doughty swords. There they 
were — lending money to each other, out of purses slender 
enough probably, squabbling with consuls about unpaid 
tailors' bills for the wonderful uniforms ; laughing together, 
quarrelling together, making it up with tears and ejacula- 
tions, that " J ack was the best fellow who ever put on a 
boot, but, hang him, he is always coming the general over 
one so ! " 

There they were — believing in each other, and believing 

f2 



68 



PICTURES FROM 



in themselves ; talking about their uncles or cousins, who 
lived in parks, which were always the finest in that part of 
the United Kingdom in which they were situated — those 
" doosid " highly-connected fellows ! 

There they were — talking tenderly of their sisters, who 
were all " trumps " of girls, and who had often helped, per- 
haps, out of a governess's salary, to pay for the wonderful 
uniforms, when they were paid for, which was not often. 
There they were — talking of their wives, who had mostly 
behaved badly, and puncturing their breasts or arms with 
the tattooed letters of names of splendid women they had left 
behind at Capuan Bucarest ; nor were there wanting some 
who marked themselves with bolder devices, like " Erin-go - 
bragh!" or '''Forward." 

Many a fine fellow, as he lies stiff and stark beneath the 
inclement skies of the Crimea, shall be found, by some 
dauntless friend, among the thickest of the fallen, wherever 
glory was to be won, or the wildest valour dared to spur, 
and he shall be known by those brave words upon his breast, 
and buried with his comrades' tears, which will not be the 
last shed over him. 

Yes ! there will be mourners enough for them among 
bright-eyed women and true men \ among fathers, of whom 
they were still the pride ; and among mothers, who will not 
be comforted, when they hear that their bold sons have 
fallen — the sons, with the open brows and hazel eyes, with 
the hot tempers and the hearts of gold ! Sons, who, in spite 
of their natural recklessness and improvidence, made little 
hoards — stolen often from the necessaries of life — to send 
some token of their unaltered and enduring love to far away 
homes, and relatives who had looked coldly enough on them ; 
who had written letters, telling of their brightening for- 
tunes — letters, which had made the old folks stare and hold 
up their heads again — which had given rise to paragraphs in 
country papers ; who had, as we have said, written letters 
full of high hopes and honest simple-hearted projects for the 
future — and who never wrote again. 

Then there were sparkling little French officers, making 
jokes about their chances of promotion, trying to laugh 
themselves out of their kindly natures (as Frenchmen often 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



69 



will), and failing notably. There were pleasant prosy French, 
soldiers, too (no one on earth is so prosy as a French private), 
telling extraordinary stories, perfectly unintelligible, of course, 
to British Grenadiers or stalwart Highlanders, who listened 
to them, nevertheless, with polite and tipsy gravity. But 
wherever you saw an Irish soldier, there was sure to be a 
woman near, and Pat was bemainin' hisself like a gintleman 
in a furrin counthrey to her ! 

There were doctors, hurrying about to and from the 
crowded hospital, and orderlies galloping hither and thither 
over the blackened ruins of the Greek fire — for Greek it 
really does seem to have been. There were army chaplains, 
with curious receipts for making curry, who stopped obliging 
linguists in the streets, and wanted to know the Greek for 
Cayenne pepper. There were French and Italian hucksters, 
driving roaring trades, and impromptu hotels, doing many 
travellers ; for the military messes have all been broken up, 
and even the ex-officers of the King of Candy (usually such 
sticklers for military etiquette, and capital authorities on 
culinary matters, as, indeed, on all others) are obliged to 
dine by twos and threes. The truth is, there is nothing to 
eat in the East ! 

We adjourned with one of these little parties to the 
house of the Consular interpreter, who had set up an 
impromptu hotel. 

He was a grandiloquent man, as all Greeks in office are. 
He immediately took us, mentally and bodily, into a sort of 
custody. He implored us, as we trusted in his honour and 
abilities, to free ourselves from the smallest thought or trou- 
ble about anything, from marbles to manslaughter, if either 
should be disquieting our minds. If we had requested him 
to favour us with a million sterling, or the Kohinoor dia- 
mond, or a venison pasty, it would have been all the same, 
and all an equally easy matter to him. We found him, of 
course, a fearful scamp, and his house seemed merely a 
windy, wooden trap for bugs and bad smells ; the latter 
coming quite unexpectedly and in stifling gusts, while the 
former absolutely turned us out of bed. They descended in 
such countless hosts directly the light was put out, that we 
could not keep the field against them. The food we got 



70 



PICTURES FROM 



here was, of course, bad. The Greeks have no idea of eating 
and drinking, except on festival days, and the bill was so 
preposterous, that it called forth rather an energetic 
remonstrance from our purse-bearer. u Sare," whined the 
Greek, in defence of his- charges, and with all the mis- 
placed pride of his race, " Sare, I am not a common 
man !" 

<£ No, faith!" replied the purse-bearer, wincing; "you 
seem to me a most uncommon rogue." 

We were glad to get away — touzled, bug-bitten, hungry, 
sleepless, dirty, and comfortless as we were, and to plash 
through the mud and mire back to the sea-shore, where our 
boat was waiting us. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

The transport. The climate. Peculiar characteristics of storms in the 
Euxine. Pegs. Cold. The cholera unveiled and declared an 
impostor. Local costume necessary to health. Away with melan- 
choly. The doomed officer. His devoted courage. The Isle of 
Serpents. Weariness of the voyage. Transports at sea. Cabin 
talk by night. A snow-storm. 

The anchor is weighed, and we are standing out to sea. 
The prospect around is not very cheering ; the sky is of a 
dull, heavy, lead-colour, as if charged with snow and tem- 
pests. To the extreme northward a dense mass of cumbrous, 
fantastically -shaped clouds seem to menace the waters with 
their wrath ; and the main has that look I have so often 
observed on the eve of a storm. 

The short waves, which are a peculiar characteristic of 
the Euxine, chop fitfully against each other, and their angry 
spray shoots upward with a hissing sound. A thick mist 
rises along the coast, and soon hides it from our view. Then 
it spreads along the sea, and seems to settle in a thin, 
penetrating rain, which comes in sadden, fretful gusts, and 
then subsides to return again presently as unexpectedly. 
It is bitterly cold — that clammy, deadly cold of these 
climates, against which no clothes seem able to protect 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



71 



you. It is a cold which is not felt in the chest, or 
hands, or feet, as our cold in Europe is ; but, somehow 
or other, it is sure to strike first at the stomach. 
You were well just now, and trying, with all the philo- 
sophy at your command, to be jolly under difficulties. 
Suddenly, you are seized with agonising pains, just below 
the chest. In vain you try to make light of it. You 
are obliged to lean for support against the first thing or 
person at hand. Your extremities have become chilled and 
useless. You sit down and double yourself up, hoping 
something from warmth and quiet ; at last you lie down 
and writhe in the intensity of your agony. If you are 
driven to take brandy (hot brandy and water is best), you 
feel a peculiar sickness for some minutes, and then the pain 
slowly subsides ; but it leaves you stupid and depressed for 
hours afterwards, and trembling and nervous. The only 
way to give yourself a chance of escape is by winding some 
twenty yards of silken or woollen sash tightly round your 
loins and abdomen. It is the custom of the country, the 
dress of the peasant and the prince ; you will soon under- 
stand that it has not been adopted without a reason. This 
was the commencement of that sickness which carried off 
such numbers of our troops. The doctors called it cholera, 
but it was only cold. 

Nothing can be much more dreary and dispiriting than 
our voyage. There is a good deal of brandy drinking, and a 
brisk consumption of cigarettes and pipes ; but it does not 
mend our spirits much. We know all about the wreck 
of the Prince, and the gallant merchant fleet which carried 
the winter clothing for the army. Sad accounts have 
reached us of the fate of dear friends and relatives, exposed 
to melancholy privations. One or two among us may be 
anxious for their own fate, when at last they join the army 
which has hitherto so vainly beleaguered Sebastopol. See 
yonder pallid lieutenant ; he was sent invalided to the 
hospital at Scutari. He recovered ; care and good living 
soon brought him round. Then he begged the doctors so 
hard to let him rejoin his regiment that they consented. 
But already he feels the numbing hand of the malady which 
laid him low before, and he will return soon, or die. There 



72 



PICTURES FROM 



is a fixed and steady light in his eye, such as I can fancy 
may have been witnessed, though unread, by those who 
stood round Arthur Conolly when he died at far Bokhara, 
It is the light which has been seen often in the eyes of true 
brave men, who were prepared to fulfil their duty simply 
and unflinchingly, whether death stood in the way or not. 
Indeed, he seems to have laid this truth to heart, that he 
who does not know ho, w to die, if needs be, should hardly be 
a soldier. He tells me this as we talk together over the 
ship's side ; and, when he turns his clear, steadfast look 
towards me, I know that he is merely expressing that which 
is part of his creed. 

We leave the Isle of Serpents and the mouths of the 
Danube on the larboard. Now and then we descry a war 
steamer paddling up through the haze, with despatches, and 
there is an exchange of signals between us ; but the ships 
look shadowy and unsubstantial as phantoms, so that a 
moment after they have been signalled the straining eye 
searches idly for them. Still we are glad to make out a 
friendly sail, or see the smoke of a funnel now and then. It 
relieves the weariness of the voyage, and makes the slippery 
deck and cumbered hold more cheerful. 

We do not make much way, for we are heavily laden. We 
are carrying all sorts of fresh provisions and stores ; yet we 
know that our burthen will disappear like a drop of water 
in the sand, among so many ; and this is another reason 
why we are glad to see the vessels steering towards the 
same point that we are. At last, however, as we draw near 
land, the heavy snow-storm which had been brooding so 
long in the air descended with an effect that was quite 
blinding, and we saw nothing whatever. Then we went 
below, and tried to amuse ourselves as well as we could. It 
was too dark to read with comfort, except at night, when 
the candles were lit, and then we were most of us drowsy. 
So we played at cards, and told each other stories quite 
familiarly, though we might not have been acquainted 
before. It was curious to mark how tolerant we were of 
each other's little weaknesses ; and how closely we seemed 
to be drawn together by the mere tie of national brother- 
hood. I never witnessed anything like it before. 



J 

/ 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



73 



In about forty hours from the time we left Varna, we 
anchored at Balaklava. We could hear, now and then, the 
stray boom of cannon to windward ; and we could see the 
flag of England flying from the heights. We had scarcely 
cast anchor before we were boarded by a tumultuous and 
motley crowd of officers off duty, looking pale and haggard 
enough. Doctors, with anxious faces and hurried looks, brawny 
boatmen, and lean, slovenly servants, on foraging expedi- 
tions. You could hardly recognise them as the trim, smart 
grooms who had left Constantinople so short a time ago. 
I must own also to some surprise at being accosted by 
Towler, who, perceiving, I suppose, by my speculative 
and abstracted looks, that I was not a military man, 
obligingly offered to procure us quarters for a consideration. 
Come, thought we, after all, things cannot be quite so bad 
as we have heard say, if a young chap, of no account like 
this, is able to get us food and shelter. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Balaklava. Books. Useless when wanted. Our stumbling-block in 
the Crimea. A classical education. New advantages of our spirited 
diplomacy. The wind is impolite. A small but voracious worm. 
The astonishment of British captains on being first introduced to it. 
Balaklava. Ruins. Dreariness. Opinions of a true British sailor 
about the Turks. Their striking development. A novel species of 
hornpipe. A small man smothered in clothes. His remonstrances. 
Parliamentary explanations of the British tar. Crimean comforts. 

We are a book- writing people. If we want to know any- 
thing upon almost any conceivable subject, the mass of 
printed information which presents itself to our inquiries is 
enough to take one's breath away, and wear out three pairs 
of spectacles. What is the use of writing about that which 
has been already treated so voluminously ] What can 
possibly be said, either new or interesting, which has not 
been said a hundred times over already 1 But wait awhile. 
Just go into the lofty pile of paper before you. The binding 



74 



PICTURES FROM 



will often not be the only part which reminds you of a 

but what need for a bad joke ? What I mean to say is, 
strike into our books on the most popular subject, and 
collect the particular facts you wish to know in an emer- 
gency from them if you. can. Therefore, our stumbling- 
block in the Crimea has been our entire want of all useful 
information. We were obliged to do everything in the dark, 
to feel our way forward at every step. Thus we knew that 
the casual visit of a Frenchman, about sixty years ago, had 
first given political importance to the Crimea. We knew 
that the name of this Frenchman had been of course for- 
gotten. We should like to hear the name of the Frenchman 
who suggested the building of old Westminster Bridge, or 
any other work, on which our national pride reposes. I 
warrant it would be as hard to come at as that of the 
founder of Sebastopol. 

Then we knew there was a bay which Strabo called the 
Ctenus, and a Tartar village by the name of Aktiar (ancient). 
We knew that the appellation of Sebastopol was altogether 
an invention of the respectable but lively Catherine. Indeed, 
there was no end to the things we knew, which were not of 
the smallest importance to anybody of ancient Cherson. 
We knew all that Dubois de Montpereux and Kohl had to 
say upon the subject, and that I am sure was confusing 
enough to read, especially when slightly sea-sick. With 
regard to Balaklava particularly, we knew all about the 
colony of Symbolum (the Cembalo of the Genoese), also 
about Ulysses and the Lsestrigonians. We were well up in 
various matters relating to Diana, her fondness for roast 
strangers, the elegance of her temple, and the mysterious 
functions of her friend Theos ; while we need, of course, 
scarcely allude to Orestes and Pylades, who have been, so to 
say, old familiar friends of ours these five-and-twenty years. 
We could have recognised their lodging even by the descrip- 
tion of a Zouave, who offered himself as a sort of amateur 
laquais de place. The imperious Iphigenia was also a lady 
with whom we were well acquainted by repute, and we were 
fully instructed about subterranean Inkermann and the 
Arians. Our education, indeed, like that of most of our 
clear-headed practical countrymen, had been altogether in 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



75 



this direction, so of course we could not be expected to know 
anything about the wild wind gusts which come on so 
unexpectedly here, and one of which absolutely blew our 
ship's boat bottom upwards, and drifted it away like a straw 
before we were aware of it ; so completely were we taken by 
surprise, in consequence of an event which an officer's Greek 
servant told me subsequently was quite an every-day occur- 
rence at this season of the year, and a very well-known 
peculiarity of the climate. The captains of the little Greek 
boats which ply about these seas in peace time are always 
very well prepared on these occasions. Some of these men 
would have been invaluable as pilots, but it seems the naval 
authorities are now afraid to employ them ; another fine 
illustration of the far-sighted and able policy of Sir Hector 
Stubble and Co. towards the Greeks at the outbreak of the 
war. A little prudent concession would have placed them 
completely on our side ; now, however, I have no doubt 
that the naval authorities have good reason for their suspi- 
cions, and that many a Greek pilot would risk his life to 
punish us. Indeed, the melancholy story of the Tiger is 
proof enough of it. If ever an officer entrusted with 
unbounded power had a terrible account to render before 
God or man, it is surely our great diplomatist at Constanti- 
nople. I criminate few besides, for they were altogether 
over-ruled and misled by him. They were coerced by his 
ignorant arrogance, and intimidated by his violence, rash- 
ness, and power. 

These thoughts positively haunt me as our boat (recaught 
and brought back after a good deal of delay,) is being hustled 
forward by a pair of short fat oars towards the shore, and mode- 
rately bumped and jockeyed by the more lively craft going 
in that direction. We land at last, amid slosh and snow, and 
slippery loose stones. The sky over our heads is quite inky 
black, and the clouds on the verge of the horizon look white. 
The ships in the pretty harbour (for pretty it is, in spite 
even of the scowl of winter,) are indistinct and shadowy from 
the thick fall of snow which lies upon every spar, amid 
the folds of their drooping pennants, on their paddle-boxes, 
and their light yards up aloft ; on the rim of the captain's 
hat, as he paces the deck thoughtfully, and wondering 



76 



PICTURES FROM 



perhaps if the little worm which eats holes in the bottoms 
of vessels when at anchor in these seas, is already silently 
feasting upon his ; or perhaps he is too well educated to 
know anything about so unclassical a subject as this vora- 
cious little worm— a terrible reality nevertheless. 

The doctors have spurred hurriedly away, so have the 
officers and the foraging servants, though their horses look 
gaunt and shaggy enough ; in colour they are quite rusty, as 
if their coats were made of iron wire, which had been for 
some time exposed to the rain. 

There is an old, old look about Balaklava, a tumble-down 
air, which especially belongs to things and places that were 
once in possession of those strange trading Italians of the 
middle ages. The town, a miserable place enough, lies at 
the foot of a range of hills on the east, and the sea shut in 
by the mountains, makes the harbour look almost like a 
lake ; the ruins of an old Genoese fortress frown grimly 
down upon it, and seem as shadowy and indistinct as the 
ships in their covering of snow. On the hills towards Baidar 
lie the tents of the Highlanders and Turks together, with a 
contingent of marines and some sailors. 

We are soon made aware of the near neighbourhood of 
Turks and sailors, for it is from that class of mankind that 
come the first human voices we hear, with any distinctness, 
after having at last accomplished the difficult enterprise of 
landing. 

Sailor (with great contempt and at the top of his voice) : 
" Blow them Turks ! I say, you Bono Johnny, drat you. 
Ahoy ! ahoy ! you beggar." 

Turkish soldier (with much courtesy) : u Bono Johnny ! 
oo, oo, oo, Bono Johnny ! " he waves his pipe blandly as he 
speaks, and assumes an air of puzzled jocularity, as if he was 
aware that there was some pleasantry going forward, without 
being clearly able to divine the nature of it. 

Sailor (now roaring with tremendous energy) : " Ahoy ! I 
say, give us a light, can't you 1 Do you think nobody wants 
to smoke but yourself, you son of a sea-cook 1 " 

Turk (swaying his head from side to side, smilingly) : 
" Bono Johnny ! Bono J ohnny ! oo, oo, oo." 

Sailor (speechless with indignation for a moment, as if this 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



77 



was really too much for him) : " Come, I say, old stick-in-the- 
mud, none of that, you know, or I'm jiggered if I don't spoil 
your old mug for you. D'ye hear, give us a light 1 Why 
don't you come, you beggar ? I speak plain enough, and loud 
enough too, don't IV 9 

The Turk, perceiving at last that there is another row with 
an infidel, though unable to understand why, drops his arms 
by his side, and looks blushing and wondering at the excited 
seaman. He twiddles his thumbs, he shuffles with his feet, 
he looks the picture of listless incapacity, like most of his 
countrymen when in difficulties. 

The sailor meantime marches up to him, and attempts to 
light his pipe. Now the Turk is a petty officer ; he has 
formerly been the aga of a village, and he looks upon this 
proceeding as a direct insult, an action at variance with all 
his previous ideas of courtesy and good breeding. It is, 
indeed, an action similar to that which eating out of the 
plate of a stranger, or drinking out of his glass unasked, 
would be in England. 

The Turk withdraws his pipe, therefore, and his looks 
display how deeply he thinks his dignity is wounded. 

And so the sailor takes him by the ear — by the left ear, 
for I paid particular attention to the circumstance. He 
then stands upon one leg, and begins to execute a species of 
hornpipe, tugging that ear to time. And the British tar 
lolls his ample tongue out of his British mouth, after the 
manner of his class, when much offended. It is a singular, 
though not to me a very agreeable sight, to see the Turk 
tucking in his twopenny, and following the stout tar in 
these agile movements. Were he to do otherwise, he must 
make up his mind, I fear, to part with his left ear altogether, 
for the sailor holds it with a grasj) like a vice, and gives 
satisfactory evidence how far human flesh can stretch, and 
how far human patience. 

" Hulloh, J ack, what are you about with that poor fellow ?" 
says a small man, smothered in clothes, who now approaches 
the pair. " Here, I'll give you a light and some baccy too, if 
you leave go that chap." 

" Lord love you, guv'ner ! These beggars ain't fit for nothing 
else but monkey's allowance, they ain't. Why, I'm blessed, 



78 



PICTURES FROM 



guv'ner, if I was'nt a hollooin' to un for an hour like, to 
give us a light, and he would'nt, not he. So I thought, 
you know, guv'ner, I'd just teach him a little manners. No 
harm in that, is there, sir ?" 

" But the poor fellow couldn't understand you, could he ?" 

" 'Stand, sir 1 Why, heart alive, I roared at un till I was 
pretty nigh deaf. There's no doing nothin' with them 
lubbers wi'out pitchin' in to um. Howsomedever, they'll 
larn by an bve, now this here is British ground ; won't thev, 
sir?" 

" Ay, ay, Jack." 

And the truth is, the sailor was as racy a tar as ever 
chawed a quid ; and the Turk was perhaps as good a Mussul- 
man as any going. But the fact is, the best folks don't 
always agree, especially when they try to force their ideas 
on each other. 

"What, no mustard with your beef, sir?" cried Mathews' 
stranger at the coffee-house, " confound you, sir ! you shall 
have mustard ! " 

How often have I seen that stranger applying his prin- 
ciples to other things than steaks and spices ! 

On the whole, Balaklava appeared to be the thing, and it 
was generally expected of us to express the utmost satisfac- 
tion at being there. Every one we met spoke of it in the 
holiday language used by country cousins, who came up to 
London from the wilds of Lincolnshire before the invention 
of railroads. In fact, there seemed an impression that all 
things might be had here, even to the luxury of something 
eatable. My companion therefore looked at me with con- 
siderable surprise when I told him, ruefully, that I had some 
preserved things carefully packed in tin cases somewhere 
among my luggage (a dreary pile) ; I did not clearly know 
where, for my faculties were frozen, and I had quite enough 
to do to keep warm by cuddling myself. The exertion 
of thinking, or doing anything, would have finished me 
quite. 

" Preserved things in tin cases'?" said my friend, brightening 
up when he clearly understood me. " Oh ! we can send those 
on to the camp. Here we have got all sorts of things — salt 
pork and beef, you know, and beef and pork, and — and — well, 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



79 



not much more, to say the truth ; but we are fairly in clover, 
compared with the rest of the fellows." 

It was a quaint picture to hear my companion, a regular 
London swell, whom I remembered very well with nerves 
and a damaged digestion, thus lauding the accommodations 
of Balaklava. It is but a village, a mere collection of huts. 
In ordinary times it must be inexpressibly dreary ; but 
now the General Post Office, ten minutes before closing 
time, is hardly fuller of bustling, and hustling, and scuffling. 
Rusty impatient individuals, on short leave from other 
places, flounder about hurriedly, yet with an odd air of 
business and authority in all they do, which bespeaks the 
stranger on a hostile soil. They are armed also, needlessly, 
just here ; but who among them knows when he may be 
summoned to the front, and find himself hand to hand with 
the enemy 1 It is well, therefore, to ride prepared even 
when foraging within your own lines. They are strangely 
altered, some of those bucks and bloods I see stride slouch- 
ingly up the broken street, now in the mud-hole, now out of 
it, now sending the splashes from a half-melted snow puddle, 
flying right and left on each side of them. They hardly 
look like the same men who used to step mincingly out of 
their cabs, and strut so daintily into their clubs in St. James's 
Street. Barring a few soiled and torn remnants of what 
was once a uniform, and still looks something like one when 
you get quite close, they might be so many Californian 
diggers. They are begrimed enough to keep up the idea 
fully, and they look gaunt, and grim, and famished, and 
luckless enough. They have the boldest contrivances to 
keep themselves dry and warm. Wherever an article of 
fur or wool can be worn by any one who is fortunate enough 
to possess it, there it is. Round their waists are twisted 
immense gay coloured scarfs, bought at fabulous prices ; on 
their feet are coverings which might be the seven-leagued 
boots of the giant Blunderbore. 

The occupation of almost everybody seems to be connected 
with eating. Little knots of fellows adjourn for impromptu 
feasts to all sorts of places, and dispense with knives, forks, 
and plates, with the utmost readiness. They have at length 
acquired that branch of Turkish politeness, which consists 



80 



PICTURES FROM 



in eating with their fingers ; others, more fortunate, have got 
invitations to cosy little things on board some of the ships 
in the bay. Lucky dogs ! The sea-cooks will seem better 
than so many Soyers to them. 

Meantime, I wander about leisurely enough, nobody 
minding me ; by and by, at dinner time, there will be some 
conversation, but not now. So I get among the hovels near 
the shore, and enter one, knocking my head distinctly as I 
do so. It looks not unlike an all-sorts shop at Wapping. 
An immense quantity of salt pork (that prime delicacy 
recommended for its being easier cooked, and keeping better 
than beef) is rolling about in oosy frozen barrels ; and trim 
kegs of rum, piled up one over the other, look cheerily at us 
from corners. Something is carefully packed in sacking 
and steadily lying in soak, as it were, between the wet 
ground and the snow. This, I am told, is part of the fresh 
supply of warm things sent from Constantinople or Bucharest, 
since the loss of the Prince. There are stacks of guns, too, 
and piles of ammunition, also some cannon. Everything 
seems in a wretched disorderly plight. Out of doors there 
is a crowd fully equal to that of Whitechapel on a Saturday 
night, barring the ladies. There is quite as much shouting 
and hallooing, however ; for provisions are being landed 
from the transports, and then hurried away to the camp. 
It is not very far off; but the road there, is " too bad, sir, 
entoirely 1" as an Irishman has just told me. Neither 
horse nor man can make sure of reaching it when he goes 
hence, and a pound weight difference to their burthen may 
render the journey impossible to either. 

Wandering still about, I find that Balaklava boasts a low 
wall, singularly useless and ill built ; going down a break- 
toe street, also, is a well quite impregnable, I should say, 
from the difficult and ancle- wrenching nature of its natural 
fortifications. Farther on are some melancholy hypochon- 
driacal trees, four of them, I think, as straight and dull as 
so many gigantic vegetable policemen. Balaklava possesses, 
also, a good-for-nothing old Genoese fortress, a church of no 
account, and a brisk colony of a small Crimean insect, which 
seems to have a wonderful partiality for fresh strangers, 
considered in an alimentary point of view. This energetic 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



81 



little race provide me with considerable occupation ; it is 
with much satisfaction, also, that I notice several other 
persons furnished with similar employment, and performing 
their allotted task v/ith much diligence and apparent plea- 
surable feeling. 

Yes ! Balaklava is a wretched little place enough, yet, I 
dare say, there are some who would rather not ride away 
from it, through the fast-falling snow to-night ; and I feel 
that many a bold fellow must turn longing glances at the 
lights which glow out of the snug cabin windows, and the 
blazes seen through the open door- way as his friends bid 
him good bye, and his lank horse plods wearily camp wards. 



CHAPTER XV. 

Balaklava. Its general appearance. Dreariness. More true British 
sailors. Melancholy breaking up of a night into small pieces. 
Advantageous opportunity of acquiring nautical phrases and songs. 
" CJiannt." Melancholy interest. An aggravating pipe. Acrid 
smoke. Impotent anger. Sleep. Street rows. Officers in the 
service of the King of Candy. Poles, Hungarians, Zouaves, Turks, 
Sailors. Broiled ham breakfast. 

I might as well have been in a back street at Portsmouth, 
in a house where some men-of-war's men who have just been 
paid off were carousing, as in a hut at Balaklava. I had 
wrapped myself round in an Albanian cloak and a large 
bearskin ; and I had swathed up my head till my nose only 
appeared sticking out like the handle of a coffee-pot. I had 
made a tacit contract with myself to forget the snow and 
dreariness outside, and to go permanently to sleep, that I 
might get up bright and early in the morning. 

Some strong shaggy nautical gentlemen, however, who 
have been working all day at getting up the ship's guns, roll 
in as I am dropping off, and pleasantly announce their inten- 
tion to make a night of it. They do make . a night of it, 
but they absolutely break up mine into small pieces. One 
who is a fine racy sailor, and evidently the king of his com- 

G 



82 



PICTURES FROM 



pany, shortly begins a series of the most spirited songs. 
He has a wonderful collection of them and sings them all 
through the nose, and with surprising vehemence. He curses 
his companions with ranch abruptness if they fail in the 
requisite attention to enable them to join in the chorus at 
the nick of time, and he rouses them by crying out Chauni .' 
with a force and suddenness of nasal intonation which is 
absolutely like a cannon-shot. I heard so much about 
" Durable dum dairy." and " Ri tooral loo looral," that night, 
that I wished the singers of those time-honoured choruses at 
Jericho. At last I found myself taking a solemn and stony 
interest in them : my eyes stared with a fixed and sleepy 
stare at the revellers, and I moved my head in its bandages 
with an involuntary motion to keep time. The sailors per- 
ceiving at last that I was awake, courteously offered me 
some cavendish and a pipe. I am unconscious if I made 
them any reply, or if I did so what it was, but I have a 
dreary idea that one of them chopped up some of this 
abominable drug into a pipe and stuffed it good-naturedly 
into my hand. The action was well meant, but I remember 
the pungent smoke got up my nose and into my eyes, till I 
entertained a feeling of impotent anger against that sailor, 
which was ungrateful enough. The fact is, I was so swad- 
dled in clothes that I could not move without getting up 
altogether, and there the abominable pipe continued sending 
up a thin stream of hot. bitter, acrid smoke, till I thought 
it would never go out, for my would-be benefactor had 
placed an ardent coal on the top of his present, after the 
manner of the Turks. 

At last, however, the pipe does go out. the jovial sailors 
wax indistinct, their songs sound faint and far away, my 
eyes close with a sudden snap and a sharp pain. I feel as if 
I had forgotten something, then I sleep. 

It is quite broad daylight when I wake up, and I am 
glad of it : for I got but a hasty and indistinct view of 
things yesterday, and I shall be glad to clamber up the cliffs 
around me. 

There is a wonderful hullabulloo and confusion in the 
street : and. I think even a still greater number of soldiers 
and out-of-the-way uniforms than I saw before. There 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



strut the officers of the King of Candy in great force. They 
have nothing particular to do, and they do it most conscien- 
tiously. They swagger amain ! Mercy on me, how they do 
swagger ! There are Poles, and Hungarians, and Zouaves, 
and Tartars, and Turks, and sailors, and wonder-hunters. Talk 
about rousing nationalities, why, what would you have more 
than this 1 Balaklava is a Babel as it is. The little Zouaves 
are scudding and flitting about like imps at a pantomime, 
and they push those bumpkins of Tartars, with their flat 
faces, and fur caps, and little eyes ; they push and shove 
them about just like so many wooden pegs, whenever they 
are at all in the way, which is of course pretty often. I 
never saw dolts who knew when to get out of the way, or 
smart fellows who had less patience with them, than my 
practical friends the Zouaves. 

While our fellows are lounging about, complaining that 
there is no fresh meat, no vegetables, no bread, no nothing ; 
these remarkable small men are whisking hither and thither 
with the agility of grasshoppers, and I will wager they will 
most of them dine as well to-night as many of the British 
generals. 

The Turkish soldiers are, of course, smoking the pipe of 
eternal indolence, content to gaze on the picture of dirt, 
want, and unthrift around them, with their eternal apathy. 
After floundering about for half an hour, more than ancle 
deep in snow mud, and clambering up to an eminence 
whence I could get a tolerably good view of the cliff- encir- 
cled bay, with its fleet of steamers and transports, with here 
and there some splendid man-of-war, I returned to the 
town ; I could not find the hut again in which I slept, but 
I was free to enter any other which took my fancy ; so I 
went poking about with much perseverance till I found an 
acquaintance, and then we broiled a slice or two of a ham, 
which I had brought with me, after the primitive fashion in 
general use before the invention of gridirons. After break- 
fast we set out for the camp, leaving the filth, want, waste, 
and unthrift of Balaklava for a time behind us. 



g2 



84 



PICTURES FROM 



CHAPTER XVI. 

A camp dinner. Cold stiff clothes. Bad tent. Dirt. Leather leggings. 
Beard discomfort. Neglect of experience. Gold hunters. Kaffir 
war. Joking under difficulties. Short pipes of consolation. 
Waiting for dinner. A British cook. Contrivances. Dinner. 
The enthusiasm of hunger. The drumstick of a fowl. Solemn talk 
by the watch-fire. 

The wind, which has been howling these ten days, is 
lulled at last ; a keen, penetrating cold, indeed, still finds its 
searching way through our tent, through our stiff clothes, 
which have not been changed so long that we have altoge- 
ther forgotten the sensation produced by putting on a clean 
shirt. It finds its way with equal success through the 
leather leggings of our trousers and our clumsy cracked boots ; 
through our matted, tangled, wiry hair and beards ; down 
the napes of our necks, when we move our heads this side or 
that, so as to give it the smallest opening to creep in. 

We cannot get up and run about, like good boys, to keep 
ourselves warm, because we are dwelling in a sort of marsh 
or bog. We should, therefore, get hopelessly wet and un- 
comfortable ; and our fires do not thrive enough to admit of 
our drying ourselves speedily, and we have no change of 
clothes. We cannot either afford a bowl of punch, just yet, 
for there is a great scarcity of fresh water. It is imprudent to 
take little gulps of brandy every now and then to keep up 
our circulation, because we have but very little of that spirit 
left, and, besides, the doctors say that such a course of pro- 
ceeding is very apt to bring on the cholera. 

Our tent is a needlessly miserable affair, but we are lucky 
to have it. Tents, even such as these, are not for all men. 
The curse of wanton mismanagement seems upon every- 
thing, and I cannot look on the pitiable scene around me 
without feeling a large personal share in our national humi- 
liation. We have had experience enough of camp life, too, 
thrust upon us during the last few years. There have been 
the countless letters of settlers in the new world, almost 
each containing some valuable practical suggestion, the fruits 
of dearly-bought experience. There have been whole libra- 




THE CAMP DINNER. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



85 



ries written about the wants and contrivances of the gold- 
hunters. Sir Stephen Lakeman and Kaffirland had furnished 
us with some valuable lessons ; and Sir E/ichard England at 
least knows something of the causes which had brought 
about our deep disgrace in AfFghanistan. Yet we have wil- 
fully neglected everything in a manner which it is most 
lamentable to witness, the more so because Englishmen are 
not given to complaining of mere personal suffering; and 
among all of those whom I see around me, there is a gallant 
(I might have written touching) determination to put a 
bluff gay face upon things. 

Therefore, we sit (there were four of us) curled up in 
various attitudes, and joking about the state of things in 
general, over short clay pipes almost as black and dirty as 
ourselves. We sit waiting for dinner, and our host every 
now and then shouts out lustily to a servant who is pre- 
paring it somewhere outside within hearing. As the ser- 
vant does not appear, however, to make much progress, 
and our appetites goad us at last into extreme measures, we 
go out to help him, or worry him into greater speed. 

Our cook is a tattered, lantern-jawed, hollow-eyed fellow, 
who would not be recognised as a soldier by any servant- 
maid in Knightsbridge. We find him in a state of that 
despondency which is, I think, peculiar to the cooking English- 
man. He is kneeling down on the damp ground, and blow- 
ing testily at some wettish, smoky shrub roots, crammed in 
a manner, inartistic enough, into an impromptu fire-place. 
He looks a fine illustration of shame and anger — he dislikes 
his job, and he does not know how to perform it. Let us 
help him. I know somebody who is not a bad cook at a 
pinch, and if we can only get some charcoal, of which there 
is no scarcity, I dare say, we shall do very well. We are 
not badly off for prog. There is some ration pork, a lean 
fowl, some eggs, potatoes, and honey. We have also got an 
old iron kettle, and a coffee-pot, with the lids thereto belong- 
ing. They are worth their weight in gold, and I hope we 
know how to appreciate them. 

Modesty prevents us telling, at length, how, by frying the 
pork in the lid of the kettle, we obtained enough grease to 
poach the eggs and fry the fowl — how a mess of bread and 



86 



PICTURES FROM 



honey and whipped eggs was manufactured, which caused 
quite a chorus of lip-smacking, and which was pensively 
remembered long after its abrupt disappearance. Then we 
roasted some potatoes among the embers and ate them (with 
the remains of the grease extracted from the pork), as a bonne 
louche, or delicate mouthful, to crown our repast ; and, 
lastly, it was with all the pride of art that we were enabled 
to stew some tea in the coffee-pot, and convert it into punch 
of no common bouquet and flavour. With this seasonable 
beverage, added to devilled biscuits and pipes, our spirits 
rose rapidly, and we soon became joyous — perhaps noisy. 

We must have looked a strange company : all, except 
myself, were excessively ragged and oddly arrayed. They wore 
their full-dress uniforms, dingy, and covered over with dirt 
till their colour was completely un distinguishable. They 
looked something between the military mendicants who 
prowl about elderly lady-like neighbourhoods, and fancy por- 
traits of noted brigands. Their beards appeared to begin at 
their eyelashes, and go on till they were lost in the folds of 
the voluminous scarfs which they wore round their waists. 
Between the dark neutral tint of their clothes and that of 
their hands there was but small difference, and when they 
removed their caps for a moment, the bit of clean skin un- 
derneath presented a contrast quite startling and ludicrous. 
There was one thing also which struck me particularly, and 
that was the prudent and laudable anxiety which our host 
displayed with respect to the fragments of our feast : nay, 
once, I remember, as a soldier passed chuckling and lugging 
along a powerful and struggling goose by the neck, the 
captain cried out with an eagerness of speech inexpressibly 
droll, " Hang it, Martin ! There goes a fellow with a goose : 
be quick and cut after him. perhaps he will let us go halves, 
or tell you where he got it, or if there is another. Come, 
look sharp, or yoivll lose him." I should be sorry to 
bring anvthing like an unhandsome charge against the 
captain's guests, but it certainly was my impression that 
Ensign Dash had placed something in his coat pocket, and 
that that something was the drumstick of a fowl, and a hunk 
of precious black bread, done up in a pocket-handkerchief. 

I remember, as the night deepened, and we still sat 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



87 



talking, that there was a certain deep- seated piety and resig- 
nation about my companions which I do not ever remember 
to have observed in young men before. There was a tender- 
ness, a brotherhood in their manner when they spoke of 
fallen comrades ; it seemed as if their own chances of life 
being so uncertain, gave them a kindred with the dead. 
Little words passed perhaps unconsciously enough among 
them which may be some day told solemnly on summer 
evenings and by winter hearths, as the last vearnings and 
expressed desires of gallant hearts which shall then be cold. 
Sometimes what they said had a simple and impressive 
earnestness, as if the speaker spoke with intention that his 
words should be hereafter recorded faithfully, as if he felt 
himself among those who are doomed to pass away in battle 
and stormy times. There was no fear or gloom in our little 
party that night, but only a serious sense of a grave posi- 
tion, such as a good man should not look on lightly. It was 
only a something which drew the bands of kindly friendship 
closer. There was a fulness of mutual trust in our hearts, 
an implied promise to do all which was silently asked, if 
needs were, and a quick conviction that we understood each 
other without forms of words such as the brave might deem 
it unmanly to speak. 

They talked with cheerful pathos about their distant fami- 
lies and friends, so that I felt even then, while I listened, as 
if I were becoming the depository of many precious secrets, 
and that I should go upon my way laden with things which 
to some would be held of hio-her value than an ar£osv. God 
be merciful to the bereaved 1 for of those who sat beside me 
on that day but one remains : for two were smote with 
tardy sickness, and the third fell suddenly in fight ! God 
be merciful to the bereaved ! and teach them to think, even 
in their agony, with a pride which shall be as balm to them, 
how their kindred have gone to join the radiant band of 
those who have died, uncomplaining, for the pure cause of 
duty. Let us resolve that they shall be surrounded with 
respect and active sympathy, which shall not die away in 
words so long as they abide on earth amongst us. We 
cannot do too much, we have only to shrink with honest 
sensibility from the burning shame of doing too little ! 



88 



PICTURES FROM 



CHAPTER XVII. 

The heights. A canvass village. A mountain sea. A sneezing 
soldiery. A quagmire. A bulloek-cart constructed on commissariat 
principles. Tarnished men. An elderly general officer. His 
importance. Needless bustle. His rheumatism. A puzzled spec- 
tator. Military music. An episode of the war. A picture. 

Fancy a canvass village, with a confusion of little peaked 
huts. Fancy a huge swelling sea, with mountains for waves. 
Fancy the troops of many nations, mustering wearily. 
Here a parade, with a dingy and muffled officer shouting 
the word of command through a cold, spasmodically, and 
then sneezing a sort of involuntary amen. Fancy muddy 
men getting muddy water from a muddy well, and wading 
through a quagmire to do so. 

Yonder, past a dismal little clump of stunted brushwood, 
goes a bullock-cart, groaning and creaking, up to the axles 
in squash. It is preceded by an unearthly-looking old per- 
son, who appears to be made of mud, and who looks more 
gaunt, and famished, and hopeless, than other people here. 
Before him, again, ride two mounted guards, probably to 
prevent his running away, seeing that he is a native, and his 
waggon carries that on which the lives of many brave men 
depend. After the cart toil other men, a- foot, and lagging 
to pick up anything which drops. And things do drop, 
more frequently than the admirers of our very curious com- 
missariat arrangements would wish to have chronicled. ~No 
species of vehicle, however, could be, perhaps, more com- 
pletely unfitted for its purpose than that in question. It 
seems to have been constructed with a special view, very 
usual in these countries ; it is that of applying the largest 
possible amount of labour with the smallest utility. It is a 
wickerwork conveniency, crazy and dirty to a degree which 
bankrupts description. It is uncovered, and so exposed to 
wind and weather. In size it is not bigger, and it certainly 
is not so strong, as a child's cot. It is propped up, however, 
in various ways, with rough-hewn bits of wood, which it re- 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



89 



quires the attention of one man to keep constantly in their 
places. Then the load is piled up with great slovenliness 
and contempt of order, according to the tenets of the com- 
missariat. Nevertheless, I perceive a group of four or five 
blue-nosed cavalry soldiers, who regard it with anxious eyes, 
hungrily, as it crawls on. 

Wide, wide away rides a general ofhcer and his staff. I 
do not know why I smile as my eye rests upon them ; but 
perhaps it is, that the general officer is a very feeble and 
elderly general officer, who appears to be rather shaky, so to 
speak. His poor elderly head is stretched forward and bent 
down, as if some other part of his person was suffering from 
acute pain. He carries his legs stiffly, and he appears to 
totter on his horse, though he has got a well-bitted pacer, 
and a clever easy goer. Then there appears to me an odd 
sort of importance in the group, as if they were riding no- 
where particularly, but wished to do it handsomely, and in 
such wise as to create a sensation. Some tired soldiers, 
lying on their elbows on the ground, watch the elderly 
general officer with vacant looks, as if they had a dim idea 
that there was something not quite right in soldiering af- 
fairs — a muddle, indeed, but further knew nothing. 

Stay, here comes a breeze nearer, nearer, and the sound of 
the French bugles and the silver fife, speaking out, is heard 
in a second ; then the breeze falls, arid it dies away. Then, 
once more, it peals martially on the ear, and an orderly has 
checked his horse, and turns half-round to listen, with bright 
eyes and reddening cheek. Then he rides on, and I think 
he sits his horse more jauntily than before ; so I wish that 
there were more music about, and something of the pomp 
and gaiety of camps, to cheer mens hearts, through all this 
mud and dreariness. 

In the distance, I see dismounted horsemen, plodding on 
foot humanely, and horses riderless, yet with drooping crest. 

There, stuck in the mire, is part of a broken wheel, and 
near it is an old burst gun-barrel, rusting fast into nothing- 
ness. They are, perhaps, the only remaining evidence of 
how much valour dared for glory, in some forgotten episode 
of a by-gone struggle. Who shall tell me now, how proud 
a heart may have quailed at the bursting of that gun — how 



90 



PICTURES FROM 



brave a man may have bowed or fled, when his trust in his 
weapon had failed him ! 

Far, far away — deep into the country, and standing out 
against the blue sea — calm, at last, to-day, is fair Sebasto- 
pol, with its towers, and forts, and mighty battlements ; be- 
tween may be seen the peering masts of a man-of-war, which 
indicate the position of the inland bay of Balaklava. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

The Turkish soldier. Modest apology of the author for naked truths. 
Effects of a long course of bastinado. Pride, fear, obstinacy, and 
clumsiness of Turkish soldiers. Muffi EfTendi, his coffee-boy. A 
Turkish contract. Eastern worthies. An Athenian. Scrum Effendi. 
The author, overcome by his feelings, suddenly breaks out into a 
raphsody. 

He is a gross, stolid, smoking, brutal, untaught fellow, in 
ill-made no-coloured clothes. It is harsh language this, and 
I am sorry to use it ; but there are few classes of men, 
perhaps, more completely degraded than that to which he 
belongs. Bastinadoes and wanton bloodshed have at last 
wrought their cruel work upon him, and the Turkish soldier 
is scarcely a single grade removed from the beasts of the 
field. He has the same unreasoning instincts, and very 
much the same feelings. 

He has a stupid animal pride about him ; a dogged 
obstinacy sometimes, a craven fear at others. He is clumsy, 
awkward, ferocious, greedy, dirty. He is an automaton 
before the powerful, a savage before the weak. 

His arms are old and rusty, and dangerous chiefly to 
himself. They were bought, with a cargo or two more, of a 
French merchant, who had bought them originally from the 
mad chiefs of some revolutionary party whose conspiracy 
came to nothing, and who had of course been cheated by the 
disreputable manufacturer who made them. The Turkish 
Government bought them by a contract, which was in the 
first instance given to Muni Effendi's coffee-boy, and by him 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



91 



sold to a Jew squatter in the bazaars, who had much to do 
with the Franks. A touter to one of the Perote hotels got 
scent of the contract while in the J ew's hands, and there was 
some sharp running between him and the head boatman of 
the consul of the king of the Towering taxes. The touter, a 
half- civilised Armenian, would have been beaten hollow by 
the Greek if he had not bethought him of a worthless old 
Frenchman, who prowled about the back stairs of the great 
pashas' houses, and was on confidential terms with the 
porters of several of the embassies, and who thus became a 
sort of smeller out of good things for some of the Galata 
gentry. So the end of it was, that the boatman, the touter, 
the Jew squatter, the worthless old Frenchman, and the 
dragoman of one of the embassies, all agreed to share the 
spoil, and offer the contract to the French merchant above 
mentioned, and this is how the Turkish soldier came by his 
arms, aud how many generations of Turkish soldiers have 
come by their arms, and how it thus chanced, that in the day 
of danger they laid that proverb to heart, which assured them 
that an individual who prefers flight to fighting in presence 
of an awkward enemy, may live to indemnify himself under 
more favourable circumstances ; whereas, if he stays to do 
battle (especially with worthless arms), there is no manner 
by which a reflective person could be induced to answer for 
his ultimate security. 

The Turkish soldier's clothes were also the subject of 
another contract given to the step-father of the first cousin of 
a dragoman's wife, as a bribe to induce that remote indivi- 
dual to use his family influence to persuade the dragoman 
to obtain the interference of Sir Hector Stubble, in the case 
of a connection of the grand vizier's third wife, which fortu- 
nate connection had been indulging himself by a little quiet 
murder and robbery in Epirus. 

The first holder of the contract sold it readily to a 
travelling Copt, who took it to Egypt, and was immediately 
followed by a shrewd little Wallachian, who caught, and out- 
bid the agent of Messrs. Spinner, Wool ley, & Co., who not 
perceiving clearly all that might be made of it in judicious 
hands, let it go easily. At this stage it was winded by a 
Greek banker, who swept suddenly down on the little 



92 



PICTURES FROM 



Wallachian and threatened to sell him up, but was bought off 
with the contract readily. The affairs of the Greek banker 
himself, however, were in a bad way, and he thought just then 
that a good deal might be done in corn, so he offered it to an 
Armenian jeweller at a small advance on the cost price. 
The Armenian jeweller could not conclude till be had nego- 
tiated with a young Greek renegade in his debt, to use the 
necessary efforts with his uncle, the Defterdar of a Muschir, 
to secure the payment of the sum contracted for within three 
years after the delivery of the goods, the young Greek and 
his uncle receiving a commission of twenty-two per cent, on 
each instalment. To make assurance doubly sure also, an 
Athenian Greek, who had just expended the produce of an 
adroit robbery at good interest in the purchase of a passport as 
a British subject, was easily persuaded to be of the party by 
a promise of ten per cent, more on all sums which should be 
recovered from the Turkish government, through the demand 
of the British embassy. This matter being finally arranged, 
the Armenian addressed himself to a Jew, who had recently 
purchased a large quantity of damaged cloth saved from a 
wreck, and sold to him by the Levantine cancelier of a 
mighty young vice-consul, who was also Lloyd's agent at an 
out-of-the-way port in Asia, where he had been sent because 
his maternal grandmother (bless the women, how they 
get their favourites on in life) had been nursery-gover- 
ness to Miss Trotter, of the West Biding, and Thread- 
needle-street ; who married the great courtier, Sir Palaver 
Tweedledum. 

And this is how the Turkish soldier came by his clothes, and 
how many generations of Turkish soldiers have come by their 
clothes, how consequently it happens that the Turkish 
soldier always looks so very oddly dressed. 

Shall I tell you the story now of the Turkish soldier's buttons, 
given by the Armenian jeweller as a separate good thing to 
the worthless old Frenchman (mentioned in the improving 
tale of the Turkish soldier's arms) who, poking his nose 
into everything, had found out that the Armenian jeweller 
was in the habit of putting false jewels into the sabres of 
honour given by the sultan to his chief officers, and who 
threatened to betray him (through a dragomanic friend), 



BASHI BAZOUK. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



93 



unless bought off ; and how the Armenian being unable to 
persuade himself to part with any money, at last silenced 
him with the ingenious device of the button contract, which 
he hoped to be allowed to tag on as a separate item in his 
bill'? And how the button contract changed hands seven 
times before it was finally executed by a Chiote huckster, in 
correspondence with some unknown Englishman who had 
married his sister, and set up in business to make them ? 

I could tell anecdotes equally refreshing about the Turkish 
soldier's cap, and even about the little bit of brass on the top 
of it (a snug thing of Scruffi Effendi) ; I know of a delightful 
episode in the history of his boots. His sword-belt is so 
infinite a jest to me, that I burst out into guffaws about it in 
lonely rides. And I cry aloud in the gladness of my heart, 
" Hurrah for his magnificence — his wonder — his glory — his 
sublimity — his condescension — his deigningness — his high- 
ness — his omnipotence (sa potence, the French call him) — 
his exceeding excellence, Sir Hector Stubble, and the fine 
pure practical system of which he is the incarnate and 
august representative. Look, look ! ye vulgar sceptics, and 
bow down as ye behold but part of its perfection and good- 
ness in the pleasant vision of a Turkish soldier." 



CHAPTER XIX. 

The Bashi Bouzouk. Bude desecration of a magnificent turquoise. 
Also of a love of a shawl. Beprehensible contempt of fashion. 
A captain, but not highly connected. A sash of thick silk. A 
blaze of embroidery. A hussar jacket. Utility of short blanks. 
A bandit. Money. Secrecy. Recipes for elderly beaux. 

He is a dark brown, wild-looking fellow, in golden clothes 
— a modern captain of a Free Company. His arms are a 
wonder of expensive uselessness. The settings of his pistols 
are perhaps solid silver or silver-gilt, inlaid with precious 
stones, but their barrels were probably made by some clumsy 
Greek armourer during the war of independence ; their 



94 



PICTURES FROM 



locks are on the old flint and steel principle, and bad of their 
kind ; yet the treacherous flint is, of course, fixed in a silver 
holder, and the worthless lock has very likely a thumping 
turquoise stuck rudely on to it. 

The fellow is a barbarian, and looks like it. He is tawdry, 
loose, and dirty beyond belief. He is fierce, selfish, and 
greedy, to an equal degree. He is clumsy and awkward. 
His gorgeous clothes seem to be thrown on, rather than put 
on, and his apparel presents the same odd contrast as bis 
mind. He comes from some far-away country — from the 
mountains of Caramania or Albania, from Syria, or where 
not, so that he does not comply with the modern fashion of 
the Turks at Constantinople, and cover his head merely with 
a red cap ; but he twines an immense shawl in picturesque 
folds round and round it, till he looks, when sitting down, 
like a gigantic mushroom. It may be that the shawl, thus 
apparently misapplied, is worth almost as much, intrinsi- 
cally, as the useless pistols, but it is incredibly soiled, and 
dirty, and twisted, and tangled. I have used the word ap- 
parently, however, with intention, for though the head-dress 
here described might be as absurd as costly in England, we 
should be slow to attach the idea of ridicule to that which is 
a general custom in any country. If, therefore, most of the 
oriental nations keep their shaved heads warm, we may con- 
clude, with tolerable certainty, that the practice is approved, 
and that they do so wisely. It is, at least, positive that a 
thick covering will foil the rays of the sun much more suc- 
cessfully than a thin one, and to do this is an object of para- 
mount importance in a country where the inhabitants pass 
most of their time in the open air, and sun-strokes are fre- 
quent and dangerous. 

The rest of the Bashi Bouzouk's dress is contrived, proba- 
bly, for reasons equally prudent, if one could get to the bot- 
tom of them. An immense sash of thick silk is wound 
many times round his loins, and again above it is girded a 
broad thick red leather belt, with pockets and receptacles 
for arms. This makes a capital support for a man who 
sometimes passes twenty hours on horseback at a time, and 
who never saw a chair with a back to it. His pistols and 
silver-sheathed sword (as splendid and untrustworthy as the 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



95 



pistols) stick out so far both before and behind, that he 
could hardly wear a long coat, or button even a short one. 
His waistcoat, therefore, is one dirty blaze of bad embroidery 
in front, and he has also embroidered sleeves to it ; while 
his jacket is made something on the principle of an hussar's, 
save that it covers both shoulders, that is to say, the large 
open fantastic sleeves hang down behind, like a fanciful pair 
of golden wings. His breeches are also embroidered, and 
they appear, at first sight, too short, for they fasten far 
above the knee, and leave the hinges of the leg as free as a 
Highlander's, and probably for the same reason. A man 
had better not confine or cramp his knees who is always 
scrambling up and down mountains, and who must be 
always ready for a dashing leap across some yawning chasm. 
From the commencement of the calf of the leg down to the 
ankle, the limb is bandaged as tightly as strength can 
bandage it. It is bandaged till the leg becomes as hard, as 
shapeless, and almost as thin as a broomstick. Over the 
bandages he wears leggings of the same eternal gold tinsel, 
confined by long, gay, flaunting garters of scarlet silk. His 
shoes are curiously old and foul ; he kicks them off, therefore, 
at every opportunity, and curls his legs under him. 

He is a curious study, but he does not improve on ac- 
quaintance. He has none of the virtues or vices of a soldier. 
He avoids fighting whenever it is possible, and will think it 
an extremely proper thing to decamp on the approach of 
danger. His idea of the duties of the military profession is 
firing felon shots with a long rusty gun, from a rock on the 
sea-coast, or a tree by the wayside. His glory is to surprise 
and butcher the defenceless as they wind through some lonely 
mountain gorge ; to torture his prisoners for sport ; to rob 
his friends adroitly. He is a mere marauder, a bandit, a 
ruffian. His savage heart would make a monster of him, if 
it were not so often palsied by a dastard fear. His love of 
money is a passion ; he clutches it with a rapacity, and 
hoards it with a secrecy, quite wonderful. He would not 
give a piastre to save his comrade from being flayed alive ; 
he would rather even suffer torture than part with it for any 
purpose, save that on which his foolish heart is set. Perhaps 
he covets some glittering ring which he has seen in the 



96 



PICTURES FEOM 



bazaar, and cannot steal ; perhaps he wants a watch, or a 
more magnificent pair of pistols, or a new pair of silver- 
hilted pincers, to take little bits of ardent charcoal out of 
the fire and light his pipe. 

He plucks out his beard to look young. He waxes his 
moustachios, and arches his eyebrows with his dagger ; 
yet this love of fine appearance seems strange in a man 
who always leads a solitary roving life, who will never 
marry, and who lives unloved ; who would as soon rend the 
coins from a virgin's hair, as ease a Rayah merchant of his 
ducats. 

He is abstemious, almost to contempt of dainty food ; a few 
grapes or olives, according to the season, a lump of coarse 
black bread, a few onions, and a little unsweetened coffee, is 
all he cares for. He has a great fear of disease and death. 
He wears charms and talismans to protect him from harm. 
He believes in omens and magicians ; but he has no real 
religion. 



CHAPTER XX. 

The Russian soldier. Timidity of his hair. Its contrariness and despair 
of doing right. His respect for good clothes. Gold lace worship. 
Love of drink. Silent soaking. Proper respect for rank. Opinion 
of the allied armies. A happy government. 

He is a sulky, sullen, stupid-looking fellow, with a pale 
blue complexion, like that produced by what the doctors 
call the " administration " of nitrate of silver in cases of 
disease. Poor wretch ! he looks like a felon, for he has been 
treated all his life as a hound. He has a short straight nose, 
the nostrils of which are turned outwards, and seem like two 
small holes in his face. He has little round eyes ; but he is 
too stupified by ill-treatment to have any expression in 
them, though he is in the first flush of youth and strength. 
His hair is of a rusty bay or reddish brown. It does not 
dare to curl or wave, and sticks out in points and notches, 
as though in despair of doing right, turn which way it will. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



He is a square-built, powerful man, but he is listless, silent, 
and awkward. He appears susceptible of neither pain or 
pleasure ; to have no respect or love for himself. He seems 
to have neither reason or instinct. He is a machine ready 
to obey a touch of the impelling rod, or to have something 
within him which hears and acts at the hoarse shout of 
command, but of himself he does nothing. He has no will, 
no energy, no pride of craft. If you speak to him suddenly, 
he starts, and takes an attitude of drilled attention. He 
will not flinch or stir for a blow, but his eyes darken and his 
thick lips close. He is dirty in his person and habits, but 
not untidy or slovenly ; for he seems always on parade. God 
only knows what thoughts pass through his mind, for he 
never utters any. He appears profoundly impressed with 
his own insignificance and inferiority to every one who 
wears a good coat, and he bows down abjectly before a bit 
of gold lace and a sword, whoever wears them. He has no 
soldierly love of pleasure. He loves drink, indeed, and he 
will sit silently soaking raw spirits as long as he can get 
any, but the liquor has no brightening effect on him. He is 
,as impassive in his cups as when sober. He may drink him- 
self blind, deaf, speechless, motionless, but he cannot drink 
himself gay. If an officer told him to walk down a preci- 
pice, or drink a glass of speedy poison, the idea of remon- 
strance or disobedience would never occur to him. He would 
do either as merely a part of his allotted task in life, the 
object for which he was born. He has been told that the 
French and English are impious heretics, a sort of plausible 
devils in human shape ; he believes it devoutly, for he has no 
reasoning powers, no opinions, He believes that he will 
incur Divine wrath by holding communion with them ; that 
they will poison him if he eats their food ; that they will 
torture instead of healing him, if he is wounded ; that their 
medicines are death in disguise, their benefits a mockery, 
their kindness a device of the evil one. He does not think 
these things distinctly, and one after the other ; but such is 
the general confused impression on his abject mind. 

His clothes are ill made and scanty ; they are so thin that 
they seem all outside ; a broad white band is slung over his 
right shoulder and descends to his left hip ; this sustains his 



98 



PICTURES FROM 



sword — it is not a very good one. The mass of the Russian 
army are of course badly armed, from the organized system 
of peculation which exists in every department. Indeed, the 
Russian soldier has perhaps never had a full meal of wholesome 
food even in his lifetime. - He was robbed before he was born, 
like his father before him, and he has been robbed ever 
since. First, by the baron and the disponent ; since, by 
every one who has had to do with him. In the army he 
has had to digest the last sublimated essence of robbery ; for 
in Russia the commander-in-chief robs the generals, and the 
generals, after their degree, rob the colonels, and the colonels 
rob the majors, and the majors rob the captains, and the 
captains rob the lieutenants, but all rob the soldier together. 
Russia presents, perhaps, the only example in history of a 
country governed by a military despotism, and in which the 
soldiers have been successfully kept in the same state of 
slavery as the rest of the community. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

The Russian officer. His genteel behaviour in company. His very 
well-bred soul. His orthodox authorship. His convenience as a 
husband, and freedom as a friend. His contempt of politics. 
Romantic idea of perfect bliss. Military enthusiasm. 

He is a trim, slim, soldierly, distinguished-looking man ; 
not handsome, or even good-looking, but nice. He is shaven 
to the extreme of neatness. His clipped moustachios are 
faultless. The general elegance of his exterior is indis- 
putable. His uniform is astonishingly well made. His 
manners are charming. He has none of the cold, haughty 
reserve towards civilians which characterizes the Austrian 
officer. If you shake hands with him, he gives such a courtly 
yet cordial squeeze, that you might fancy his very well-bred 
soul was in his warm agreeable fingers. In society he is 
delightful. His conversation positively sparkles with good 
sayings, and is interesting, from its gay profusion of the most 
apt and well-told anecdotes. His courtesy is winning to a 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



99 



degree. He apologizes more readily and gracefully for the 
most trifling accident than any gentleman in Europe. 
You feel positively under an obligation to him for having 
inadvertently trodden on your tee, or inserted his elbow in 
your ribs in a crowd. He is so accomplished a linguist, that 
you would inwardly confess he speaks your own language 
better than you do yourself. All languages, indeed, seem to 
come natural and easy to him. Then he is a traveller, and 
such a traveller ! He speaks with equal familiarity about 
the North Pole and the Tropics. He tells you precisely 
what you wish to know. In a few pungent sentences he 
raises a picture in your mind of any place or person, a picture 
of such finished and perfect accuracy, that time will try in 
vain to efface it. He is certainly not a literary man, yet he 
is said to be the author of one of the most remarkable pam- 
'phlets of the day, and his information on literature is 
astounding. He knows the policy and public men of every 
state in Europe thoroughly. He has dined with them, and 
he knows more about them than you and I, who have lived 
familiarly with them all our lives. This is not pretence or 
fanfaronnade ; his knowledge is perfectly submissive to good 
taste ; it is never brought forward intrusively, but it comes 
at the first call when wanted, and it is perfectly sound. He 
would tell you something new of Lord Byron, or of your own 
brother, which would put his character before you in a different 
light to any in which you had hitherto considered it. 

From the intricacies and oddities of the British constitu- 
tion to the last raw theories of the newest republicanism in 
Germany, and the private opinions of Rudolph, the fifty- 
second hereditary Margrave of Noodleland, everything is 
equally familiar to him He has not the smallest prejudice 
on any subject whatever. You cannot argue with him, his 
ideas are so fluent, and appear so reasonable when uttered, 
that panting dissent toils after them in vain. He appears to 
have considered every scheme of government which has ever 
attracted the attention of mankind. He believes that of 
Russia to be the best. He does not quarrel with you for 
thinking differently, if you really do so. Every man may 
enjoy his own opinion, and he re3pects yours, though he 
cannot partake of it. 

h2 



100 



PICTURES FROM 



Such, is the dazzling surface of the character of many 
among the higher classes of the most extraordinary people in 
the world ; but go deeper, and you shall marvel at the low 
depths of its infamy and disgrace, the completeness of its 
rottenness and corruption. 

He is an incarnate falsehood, a backbiter, with malicious 
intent, a most notable slanderer. He has no high and in- 
spiring creed, no soul, no heart ; but he has the jargon and 
seeming of them all. He utterly despises and sneers at the 
honour of women. He would connive at the shame of his 
wife, his sister, his mother, or his child, for his interest or 
convenience, without the smallest scruple. He would dis- 
honour the hearth of his kinsman or best benefactor, by 
means which should send him to the galleys. He would 
commit a burglary unblushingly, if it was not likely to be 
brought home to him. He would cheat at play. He would 
dexterously pick the pocket of his mistress in folding her to 
his breast. He would receive the wages of crime from her 
without a pang. He would poison her mind till it became 
as black as his own. He would give her aid and counsel in 
the slow murder of her husband, if any gain were to be got 
by it. 

His philosophy is pure materialism ; he does not believe 
in anything but the present moment. His idea of the last 
crowning glory of human ambition is to have £50,000 
a-year, and live at Paris. Whist, opera-dancers, dinners, 
suppers, music, dancing, and wit ; his notions of perfect 
happiness do not go an inch beyond. Though an unrivalled 
diplomatist, and as clever as Brunnow in acquiring popu- 
larity and influence under difficulties, he secretly votes the 
whole thing a bore, and would be much rather left alone to 
shine in his own way. He knows far too well the nothing- 
ness and uncertainty of place and power to covet it very 
much. He would rather be a philosophical looker-on, 
always having the last news from the best sources, however, 
and hand in glove with everybody, so that he could just pull 
the strings of political puppets now and then, and make them 
dance for his amusement. In other respects, he would take 
no more interest in public affairs than the Marquis of Steyne 
or Lord Lilburne. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



101 



He acts upon precisely the same convictions at Sebastopol 
as in Paris. He covertly laughs at the whole thing ; he does 
not really care two straws about the issue of the struggle, 
except so far as it may some day affect his social position in 
Europe as a Russian officer. For the rest, he despises alike 
as fools those who are fighting with him or against him. 
He knows the commencement of the bother was a mere 
personal pique between two old men, or a political pretext 
for doing something which was excessively hazardous. He 
has not a grain of military enthusiasm ; but, if a poor or an 
obscure man, he welcomes the war readily enough, as a 
possible means of personal aggrandizement. As for the 
danger, he neither thinks or cares much about it. What is 
the use of living, if you cannot have £50,000 a-year. and live 
in Paris i The rest is all bosh ! 



CHAPTER XXII. 

The French officer. His loveable nature. Fondness for finery. 
Varnished toes. Large cigars. Prudent abstinence from breakfast. 
French reason for refusing an invitation. His liberal opinions. 
He makes a friend of his own brother. His lively sensations in 
female society. 

He is a curiosity of vanity, bonhornmie, and contrivances. 
He is at once lavish and self-denying — of a ticklish honour, 
yet of easy intercourse. The great leading-star of his life is 
finery ; I do not mean mere finery of dress, or a simple love 
of baubles, but finery in everything — finery of idea, of 
language, of manner. He thinks in his heart that Napo- 
leon I.'s proclamations to the army are the finest things in 
literature. He believes in wealthy marriages, in rank and 
fortune acquired suddenly. He will even act in youth often 
under the strong impression that he himself will be among 
the fortunate. Debt is rather a glory than a disgrace to 
him. He is even apt to give himself the credit of it when 
he has been too prudent to incur the reality. He is very 
polite and good-natured, but equally sensitive. Do not 



102 



PICTURES FROM 



judge of him by his light, easy, odd, careless philosophy. It 
conceals an extraordinary earnestness and depth of charac- 
ter — a quick sense of every beauty or sorrow in life. He 
will profess the loosest and most corrupt ideas, wrapped up 
in an epigram that will almost make an Englishman's hair 
stand on end. In reality, his heart is as pure as a child's, 
and as gentle as a maiden's. He may be even pious, though 
he would not own it on any account ; and he has a boyish 
pride, to his dying day, in giving himself out for worse 
than he is. He is a great stickler for appearances before 
the world. He will have varnished toes, though he japans 
his own boots \ and cigars, though circumstances render it 
prudent for him to dispense with breakfast. He would, 
I believe, refuse a dinner simply because he was hungry ; 
and he would be certain to act with excessive coldness and 
hauteur if he felt his heart weakening towards any one who 
offered him a benefit. He will profess the most large and 
liberal views on politics, but he would entirely decline to 
put them personally into practice. He is incapable of 
intention to deceive on this or any other subject. He 
merely deceives himself. He is delighted with the finery of 
republican phrases and arguments, also with the hazard of 
expressing them at the present crisis. But — and do not 
forget this — he is eminently an aristocrat by nature. Equa- 
lity in France only applies to commercial clerks and 
bagmen ; and even they wish it only to include the classes 
above them. The students of the Quartier Latin, indeed, 
appear to act as if they wished it sincerely, but it is only in 
appearance. They have no objection to place themselves on 
perfectly equal terms with a grisette, but they would abso- 
lutely refuse to sup with her brother, or to be on friendly 
terms with a waiter anywhere, but at a cafe, or a restaurant 
The French officer understands the art of living agreeably 
better than any person whatever. He looks upon his 
pleasures as necessities ; and no more grudges the price of 
them than that of his food or clothes. He considers that a 
fair share of his income belongs naturally to theatres and 
dominoes. He is never haunted by remorse for having so 
applied it. He loves to live gaily out of doors, and he will 
do so, to whatever privations he may have to submit at 



9 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



103 



home. No man is more unselfish in his pleasures, or has a 
clearer idea of social ties. He would not hesitate for an 
instant to give his last franc to a mistress or a friend ; and 
he passes at once into romance and dreamland, when he 
thinks of his family at home. He has an unspeakable 
tenderness for his mother and sisters — the loftiest, most 
indulgent love for his wife — the most perfect respect and 
propriety of conduct towards his father, and his brother is 
usually also his friend and comrade. 

He has especially the happy art of making something of 
nothing, arid good out of all things. He was born an excel- 
lent tailor, a tasteful dresser on small means. He has a 
happy knack of putting on old clothes which quite conceals 
their age and infirmities. He knows more about the proper 
entertainment for moustachios than an Austrian ; and his 
gloves are irreproachable, though he may long have made up 
his mind to renounce the hidden luxury of stockings. 

He is admirable in all departments of drawing-room con- 
versation, persiflage, and ladies' small talk. Immediately he 
draws near a lady, indeed, there occurs a most visible 
change in his manner and bearing. He feels himself on the 
stage of his dearest triumphs. He begins to brighten up 
and sparkle. He becomes interesting, almost affecting, in 
his grace and gallantry. He flirts without offence, an art to 
which other men can hardly attain ; for flirtation is as 
natural to him as a certain shyness and awkwardness 
towards stranger ladies in an Englishman. His conversa- 
tion is positively a cure for hypochondria. It is so shrewd, 
clever, and worldly-wise — yet so light, polished, and airy. 
He can jest without wounding, and set even a rival at his 
ease. 

I am afraid he is a little given to exaggeration, from that 
love of finery in language which has been already pointed 
out ; but he would scorn a lie, and you may place a trust 
as implicit in his word as in his friendship. One of his 
great weaknesses is, perhaps, a meretricious scorn of small 
appearances. This seduces him into a thousand follies ; to 
be lavish with a slender purse, and to give where he would 
find it wiser to receive. He has the most nervous dread of 
shame and ridicule. He would sooner be stabbed than 



104 



PICTURES FROM! 



sneered or laughed at ; and he has not very correct ideas 
about that which is ridiculous and that which is not, so that 
the absurd scorn of a fool would pain him as much as the 
reasoning smile of a wise man. 

He is a materialist in speech, but in speech only — for his 
secret soul is filled with all the burning phantasies of 
romance, and the loftiest aspirings of ambition and chivalry. 

He hardens and even becomes morose in misfortune, but 
he overflows again with philanthropy and kindness at the 
first smile of returning happiness. 

He is the very model of a soldier. Brave amongst the 
bravest, fertile of stratagem and invention ; indifferent, or 
even proud of suffering and hardship. Military fame is as 
the idol of his worship. The charms of the most delightful 
life would not weigh with him a moment against the chance 
of a glorious death — a name in history. He is alike mer- 
ciful in victory — undaunted in defeat. The happiest camara- 
derie and confidence exists between him and his superiors 
or inferiors. He is not gagged and cowed like a British 
subaltern ; and i£he thought he had a bright idea, he would 
state it to the commander-in-chief without the smallest 
hesitation, and it would be received without any feeling of 
impropriety on either side. He has the rare art of blending 
an easy and useful familiarity with the most perfect respect. 
There is a more cordial and affectionate brotherhood among 
French officers than among ours ; there is no tuft-hunting 
or toadying the rich among them. He is active, daring, a 
good forager, and a good cook. He thoroughly enjoys all 
that is enjoyable in a campaign, and knows how to seize 
passing pleasures as they fly. He will put a bottle of wine 
in his pocket, and some paper cigarettes, join a comrade, and 
extract a night of songs and gaiety out of the dullest guard- 
house, or the bleakest bivouac. He has no longings after 
tea and comfort and clean shirts. He looks upon soldiering 
as the noblest pursuit in life. This is enough ; his vanity is 
interested, and he is sure to follow it ardently. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



105 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

The Zouave. Is a braggadocio. Prophetic face. Charming credulity. 
Le soldat Fr-r-r-rcais. His dislike to discipline. His devices. 
Unthrift and charity. 

He is a small, fine-featured man, rather loosely put to- 
gether. He has that expression of face which prepares you 
at once for any cool, intrepid, harmless piece of impudence. 
I say harmless, for among friends he is soft-hearted as a 
woman, perhaps more so. He is a braggadocio, but full of 
kindliness, and devoid of envy. He will believe of others, 
stories to the full as marvellous as he relates of himself; 
and give them entire credit for any species of impossible 
adventure to which they may lay claim. His mind is at 
once shrewd and imaginative, yet singularly free from sus- 
picion. The stupidest trickster might win his faith and 
deceive him ; and do so even with subsequent impunity, for 
he does not know what it is to bear enduring malice. In 
spite of this boyish simplicity, however, he is unmatched in 
invention and resources. He would live, and live well, 
where ingenuity itself would starve. He would succeed, 
where wisdom and experience incarnate would fail. He 
is brave to rashness, unselfish to chivalry, unexacting, good- 
humoured, ready to oblige or assist others to a degree that 
is inexpressibly graceful and winning. But he must be 
humoured, for he believes in himself, and if you put him 
out, he will begin to talk about " Le soldat Fran^ais, voyez- 
vous" and then nothing in the world is to be done with 
him till he is pacified. A word, however, will pacify him. 
I believe a single kindness would touch his generous heart, 
more than years of wrong, injury, or ingratitude. 

He is a curious study, but the more you think of him 
the more he will amuse you, and the more you will learn to 
love and admire in him — the reckless, provoking, gallant, 
sharp-witted dare-devil. 

He is the good-humoured despair of his officers. He will 
submit to no discipline, and he defies punishment. In fact, 
it is a positive temptation to him to do wrong, even where 



106 



PICTURES FROM! 



there is no other. He is a grown up gamin, a street boy- 
dressed in man's clothes, and longing to forget his dignity, 
and have a game at pitch-and-toss, or leap-frog. He is an 
artful dodger, masquerading with his tongue in his cheek, 
and laughing at the company. 

He has a strange, wild, rakish, good-natured face ; the 
longer you look at him, the more you believe in his good- 
nature, and doubt of everything else about him. He is 
dirty to a degree, and even slovenly, except at particular 
times, when his dress becomes strangely attractive and 
brilliant. His immense moustaches are rusty from want of 
*:are — one turns up, and the other turns down. If you are a 
person in authority, he will begin to twirl these when you 
talk to him, as a ready resource to cover his confusion at 
being detected in some escapade. He is always in a scrape, 
yet you cannot be angry with him — that is altogether impos- 
sible ; for his troubles are as absurd as those of an Irishman 
at a fair, and his doings, however reprehensible, are sure to 
be mixed up with some irresistible piece of fun, which abso- 
lutely strikes you speechless before you can begin a repri- 
mand. While you are preparing to speak to him in a voice 
of thunder, he suddenly chokes you with laughter at his 
keen wit, or astounding unconscious impudence, or his con- 
summate acting of absurd contrition. 

You internally acknowledge that your dignity as a com- 
manding officer can only be preserved by biting firmly into 
your cigar, and retiring, as promptly as possible, to a place 
where you can conveniently give play to your risible muscles, 
without bringing discipline and the interests of the service 
into open contempt. The rogue understands this perfectly, 
and in spite of his assumed bashfulness, nothing is so re- 
assuring to his mind, when he has been at any mischief, 
than a summons into the actual presence of his com- 
manding officer : he knows that the game is won then, for 
it would be a shrewd colonel indeed that caught him 
tripping. 

Though a ready and useful soldier when any real fighting 
is to be done, he is quite hopeless on parade. He has a 
genius for anything you like, except the theoretical part of 
his profession. Perhaps he knows, far too well, what cam- 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



paigning really is, to attach much, importance to it, and 
secretly votes drilling and reviewing a bore of no common 
magnitude. He would do anything in the world for an 
officer who knows how to lead him ; but drilling and orderly 
conduct are really too much for him. 

His dwelling, whether tent, or barracks, or hovel, is a 
perfect marvel of muddle and strange contrivances. He 
has none of the neatness, precision, and art of stowing away 
things, which usually characterize a soldier or a sailor : 
when he has done with anything he throws it down and 
forgets all about it, though he may want it again ten 
minutes afterwards. He will apply things in the most re- 
markable manner, and without the smallest regard for the 
purposes for which they were intended : he would think 
nothing of drinking brandy out of a powder-flask, and keep- 
ing ammunition in a saucepan. He would carry a cutlet in 
his turban, and a pair of shoes in a basket, without the least 
idea of unfitness of place in either case ; and his vanity 
would prompt him to give away cutlet, shoes, basket, and 
all in mere gaiety of heart, and to show his excellence as a 
forager. 

He is wonderful as a cook, tailor, cobbler, washerwoman; 
but he usually applies all these gifts for the benefit of any- 
body but himself. To please a vivandiere or an officer's wife, 
who knows how to manage him, he would sit up all night, 
and give up a petit souper to mind her baby. He would 
turn carpenter, blacksmith, housemaid, for her, with equal 
energy, good will, and success. He would risk his life to 
cull her a nosegay under the enemy's guns, or to bring her 
some coffee from a shop in Sebastopol. 

Going into Sebastopol, indeed, is his favourite exploit just 
now. It is idle to attempt to look after him, so he disap- 
pears in the most mysterious way, whenever it suits him. 
He dresses himself in some Russian uniform, found on the 
field of battle, and joining some deserter, with whom he has 
contracted a sudden but affectionate friendship, they lay in 
wait, and bide their time. When there is a sortie, they join 
the retreating Russians and enter the town with them. If 
they are interrogated, they feign to be drunk or stupid ; 
their Russian companions get them out of the scrape, for 



108 



PICTURES FROM 



many of them return sound and unharmed with some indis- 
putable trophy of their daring ; but many others, probably, 
fall victims, in some way, to such inconceivable temerity. 
It would be a stern man, however, even for a Russian, who 
could hang a Zouave; and it must be a bad business, indeed, if 
he could not satisfy anybody who could speak French, of the 
purity of his motives, and, in all probability, turn his in- 
tended punishment into a reward. The tales they tell about 
themselves, indeed, when they do come back are far more 
extraordinary than all the stories of Baron Munchausen put 
together. 

Respecting the rights of property, a Zouave's ideas are not 
quite correct : he would steal anything to eat or drink, in an 
impudent dashing sort of way, without the smallest com- 
punction ; but then he would walk twenty miles through a 
bog in a snow-storm to return it, if he found out afterwards 
that he had stolen it from anybody entitled to his peculiar 
sympathy, or if his feelings became subsequently interested 
about them — or, perhaps, even for a whim. He likes bri- 
gandage more from the danger and bravado of it than from 
any substantial advantages which he may hope to reap ; for 
if you meet him with his hands full of no matter what, that 
he may just have become possessed of at the most dreadful risk, 
his first object and anxiety appears to be how he shall get 
rid of his burden, to set out again immediately in chase of 
something else. If any one has ever shown him the smallest 
kindness, he will pay it with the most surprising magnifi- 
cence. For a pipe of tobacco supplied to him at some for- 
gotten time of need, or for a drop out of a brandy-flask, he 
would return a casket of jewels snatched from a general 
conflagration in a town given over to plunder. When he 
has conferred a benefit on anybody, he is apt to disappear 
with great agility, or even perhaps to do or say something offen- 
sive, in his anxiety to avoid thanks ; and he would never 
thieve with such determined perseverance as when foraging 
for a sick Englishman : " Car ces Jean Boule, voyez vous, ca 
ne sait rien ! ca ne sait pas s'arranger comme nous autres ; ca 
ne sont que des zenfans, puis ca nous zaime ! ere nom de chien 
comme ca nous zaime!" 

I think I see one of the rowdy, kind-hearted little fellows 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



109 



now. He is the guide, philosopher, and friend of a tower- 
ing guardsman — for your Zouave is aristocratic in his ideas 
and predilections, so that he will seldom be seen to consort 
with the common troops of the line. Both Guardsman 
and Zouave are proud of their intimacy, and take every pos- 
sible means to display it, though their conversation is utterly 
incomprehensible to themselves or anybody else : it consists 
in eccentric but fruitless sallies into the English language, on 
the one side, and into the French on the other, each friend 
obligingly translating, into his native tongue, what he sup- 
poses the meaning of the other friend may be, the first speaker 
confirming the translation with the promptest and most 
social approval. Our little friend looks up at his gigantic 
companion with an air of admiring solicitude and protection 
that completely beggars description. His baggy red breeches 
come down so low, from want of braces, as almost to hide his 
legs ; his blue jacket flies open in well-studied disarray ; and 
his immense turban is cocked so much on one side, that it is 
a wonder how he keeps it on. He wags his hips martially, 
as he struts along with his little nose in the air, and his 
little white gaiters on his little feet, a yard apart from each 
other. He has no consciousness of being ridiculous, and he 
believes, with all his stout little heart, that the eyes of the 
world are fixed on him and his acquaintance — as, indeed, 
they are. 



CHAPTER XXIY. 

The deserted villa. Results of the Stubbleian diplomacy. Glorious 
war. Ruined homes. Murdered youths. Deserted maidens. As 
flowers fade so beauty withereth. Madness. Apathy. Mere tears. 
Despair. Pride. Fanaticism. Piety, Poor child. The scattering 
of a hoard. Finery in tatters. The silent harp. The houseless 
fugitives. 

The soldier's heel smote harshly on the marble floor, and 
around him was desolation, fresh- wrought, terrible. Men of 
blood strode through the chambers drunk with wine and pillage. 
The mirrors had been torn from the fretted walls, and flung 
down in fragments ; the windows had been broken ; the 



110 



PICTURES FROM 



floors were littered with costly things destroyed in mere 
wantonness. Some flowers, offerings may be but a few hours 
ago from love to beauty, were dashed down and sullied, crushed 
with the vase that held them. Yesterday their loveliness vied 
with the tints of the rainbow, or the bloom upon the cheek 
of joyous youth ; now they have become loathsome, a poor 
mass of earth and foul and colourless decay. A few hours 
ago there may have beat the heart of some hero among our 
foemen, who would have held each stained and withered leaf 
even now more precious than a gem of price, — precious for 
the sanctity it had gained by being touched but for a moment 
by the honoured hands of an angel maid, or having slept 
in glory on her bosom. Since then, the hero may have been 
struck down by a wandering shot in battle, and he whose 
very presence was a joy to his kindred and his beloved, who 
was the incarnation of manly strength and comeliness, from 
whose lips poured the lofty enthusiasm of his heart in words 
of music, whose high impetuous valour had bid him to the 
battle as to a festival, lies now perhaps with hideous face up- 
turned upon some hard-fought spot of ground, the vulture 
feeding upon his heart, and the vagrant dog howling his 
requiem as he scents the rich prey, and sjjeeds to it at a 
slouching furtive gallop from afar. 

Where is the maiden who perchance so loved him ? Is it 
she they call mad in yon distant fortress, and who weeps 
and laughs by turns so wildly 1 Is it she — startled, wonder- 
ing, stony, motionless, frightened of herself, knowing some- 
thing fearful, ignorant of what, gazing with strained eyes 
into horrid vacancy ? Is it she who lays with her fair head 
bowed on her mother's breast and weeps silently 1 or is it 
yon girl with the hard, cruel eyes, who speaks so briefly and 
with accents so stern and repulsive to all who come near ? or 
is it she who cannot bear the light, and who sobs all day 
long, rocking herself to and fro in some cheerless chamber ? 
or is it she who has gone forth with garlands in her hair to 
the dance and to the banquet — her white lips quivering only 
when she hears envenomed words of feigned sympathy from 
those who envied her with vulgar hatred — such a gallant 
captive to her peerless charms 1 or is it she of the flushed 
cheek, who rejoices with the fierce proud heart of an 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



Ill 



Amazon that her lover has gone down sword in hand, rather 
than that he bore to her the cold and shameful story of 
defeat 1 or is it she, the gentle yet heroic woman who tends 
upon yon white-haired sire so devoutly, and bids him raise 
his bowed head for the sake of those that are left, who, when 
she weeps, sorrows in secret and prays convulsively to be 
strengthened that she may be able to hold on bravely in the 
course of duty ? — she, the pious lady, filled with such beau- 
tiful and sweet affections, with such devoted and self- 
scornful love ! 

Where is the infant who last slept in that little cot 
which now lies shattered among the weeds of the ruined 
garden ? Did it sicken and die even as its mother bore it 
in hot haste and with such frantic caresses through the 
poisonous air of the winter night — through the bleak bog 
and over the tempestuous height, and by the festering marsh 
in the silent hollow 1 Was it forced at last from her feeble 
arms, and trampled down in the crowd of the flying and 
panic-stricken ? 

Why was that little hoard laid by so carefully in yonder 
rifled writing-desk, yet forgotten on the near approach of 
danger ? Was it slowly gathered, piece by piece, by some 
simple, grateful mind, hoping to return again with usury the 
gift of kindness ? Was it the savings of skilful prudence, 
or the peculation of dishonesty ? Was it meant as a love- 
gift, or a legacy, or to be spent in the noble cause of charity, 
or for some festival ornament or long-desired pleasure 1 
What matters 1 it is now scattered wide enough ; another 
proof of the vanity of human wishes when they build upon 
the dim to-morrow. 

On what gay gala-days has that poor finery fluttered 
which now streams in shreds from a battered casement, after 
having served for the masquerading whim of a rude soldier ? 
What fair hand last touched the notes of that broken piano ? 
what loving fingers lingered among the chords of that silent 
harp ? Alas, for those who drew tones from the lyre and 
listened to the lay ! 

Go and seek those that remain among wailing widows 
and hapless orphans — among the maimed who lie groan- 
ing in hospitals — among ruined fugitives on lonely roads 



112 



PICTURES FROM 



— among despairing wretches who have faltered and sunk 
down by the wayside — among the cold, the hungry, the 
sick, and the houseless ! Then say what you think of the 
Bacchanalian orgy going on in their ruined home, and how 
long the better spirits of our age and time will urge on mad 
wars, of which horrors such as these are but a common and 
unnoticed episode. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

The road. A lake looking like wild ducks. Famous results of the 
Fiddle-de-dee mission. Reasonable delicacy recommended to the 
British traveller in gratitude for the benefits bestowed upon him 
by that musical man. Tatar English. Judicious defence of a 
postilion. 

From Varna to Derrena is a sharp ride of three hours, and 
in Bulgaria post-horses cost two piastres and a half each for 
every hour. A calculating public may therefore cast up 
this simple sum for itself ; it must also add a bachsheesh for 
the souroudjee or post-boy. The length of a Turkish post 
hour is about four miles. Over good roads it is easy to 
travel six, or even seven miles an hour ; over bad roads it 
is sometimes impossible to exceed two miles. The distance 
from Varna to Dervena is five post hours — we did it, as 
I said, in three, going at a hand-gallop during the last ; and 
there are less pleasant things than a scamper with a Tatar 
and six wiry ponies over the fat lands of Bulgaria. The 
road from Varna to Dervena stretches away by the borders 
of a lake, which looks monstrously like wild ducks, though 
we saw none. We started, however, several fine coveys of 
partridges, and some hares. I was told, also, that we need 
not have gone far to find some bustard. We did not go, 
however, because we had no guns, for as we were subse- 
quently to pass through Austria, and we knew very well 
what state of things the famous mission of Lord Fidclledee 
had contrived to bring about in that country, as far as 
Englishmen are concerned, it was useless to incur the 
certain loss of a favourite fowling-piece on the frontier. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



113 



If that vivacious and singular diplomatist should ever meet 
his deserts, it will be possible to make a rare sporting trip 
through Bulgaria, the Principalities, and Hungary. As it 
is, the British traveller will reflect, wuth pride and gratitude, 
that he is able to add another to the many obligations he 
lies under to the musical elderly person who looks after his 
interests in Austria ; though both prudence and delicacy 
will probably prevent him endeavouring to add to the list, 
lest he should meet the fortune of so many English gentle- 
men who have had to deal with the Austrian authorities 
during the agreeable sojourn of our harmonious mission. 
'Now, such a result would be overwhelming, and any well con- 
stituted mind would of course shrink from it. 

We met long trains of waggons on the road, carrying 
provisions for the army ; they were all drawn by bullocks, 
and looked weird and barbarous, creaking along in the 
morning twilight, with the still solemn lake sleeping beside 
them. Now and then we passed a British or French officer 
coming down from Bucarest, and more or less knocked up. 
There seemed to be a good deal doing to strengthen the 
sinews of war in these parts, and certainly there appeared 
no want of activity. What was done, however, was said not 
to be very well done. There was a talk of haste, and wild- 
goose chases, and previous neglect ; and many folks grumbled, 
so that I need not. 

It was painful to notice, as we rode on, the bare and 
deserted state of the country, even by the highroad side. 
We went for miles and miles without seeing a sign of culti- 
vation, or a human habitation ; the solitary little village 
we descried at rare intervals seemed lost in the wilderness 
around. If the curse of God hung over the land, it could 
scarcely seem more desolate. The footprints of the rude 
soldiery of bygone days, who have swept like stormy 
torrents one after the other over these fertile plains, have 
left their deep marks everywhere : the exactions of Pashas, 
the insecurity of property, melancholy misgovernment, have 
done the rest. Hope and energy have been palsied from 
out men's hearts ; for who would care to sow, knowing that 
lie should never reap a harvest ? 

Heart alive ! When we think of what all that tawdry 



114 



PICTURES from; 



splendour was made, which we read in books once be- 
longed to the court of Constantinople, and remember how 
it was wrung out of breaking hearts, and whole nations and 
countries brought to such an abject extreme of ruin as 
this, even anger and .contempt can hardly find words to 
speak of it. 

The post-house at Dervena was a low rambling wooden 
building, situated in a very likely place for snipe. We 
found some agricultural-looking louts crowded together in a 
hot, foul room, quite air-tight. They were all stewing 
together, after the approved Turkish roadside coffee-house 
fashion ; and I am by no means sure that I have not seen 
the guests of Tom and Jerry doing much the same sort of 
thing in Britain. 

It was not certain that we could get anything to eat, and 
we therefore addressed our Tatar on the subject with the 
liveliest anxiety. 

" I say, Tatar," cried the youngest of our party, " can we 
get any breakfast ] " 

" No, sare, you not I get sometings," replied he, with a 
little of the pride of craft. 

" "Well, but you are a wonderful man ! " 

" Yes, sare." 

" In every sense of the word," continued his tormentor, 
who delighted in puzzling him. 
" No, sare." 

And we did get something : it was a sausage, — the hardest, 
and the strongest, and the toughest I ever ate ; a sausage 
to which the famous and mysterious composition of Bologna 
was easy eating. Things, however, appeared to be cheap 
here in spite of the war, for we only paid six piastres, or 
about a shilling, for our breakfast, with two piastres added 
for the coffee. The post on for the next stage (six horses) 
cost sixty piastres. 

As we were going away, another Tatar rode up, and 
haughtily demanded our horses. I was half disposed to 
yield, not knowing but that he might have business of 
moment ; but one who knew the country well immediately 
feigned the greatest and loudest indignation, when the claim 
was at once abandoned. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



115 



By the way, into what a state of moral degradation a 
people must have sunk, when everything is to be done with 
them by bullying, and nothing without. A man would get 
knocked down without parley anywhere else, for con- 
ducting himself as he is often obliged to do in Turkey. 
Hence the absurdities of the Eastern nabob, which pro- 
vided so many scenes in the comedies of our grandfathers : 
what was necessary in India, was impossible in Britain. 

" De postman he not know him noting, sare," said Beesto, 
our Tatar, apologizing for the discussion we had just had 
with his fellow craftsman. " De postman he not know him 
noting by which he meant to say, that if the postmaster 
had been aware that we were slaves of the Badisha Bashee, 
Sir Hector Stubble, he would not have dared to see us inter- 
rupted, which I think very likely. 

" All right, Beesto ; never mind. How many days shall 
we be on the road V 9 

" To-morrow mornin's veek come in," replied the Tatar, 
explicitly, and with much gaiety of manner. It was 
obvious that Beesto considered English as the language of 
languages, and that his was especially the right way of 
speaking it. 

From Dervena to Bravida is a gentle ride of about three 
hours ; but the only persons we met on the way, though 
the day was fine, were a company of tall, stanch Bulgarian 
women, going out to labour in the marshy fields near 
Bravida. They were dressed in bright red jackets, and 
looked at a distance like a detachment of British grenadiers. 
"We were expecting a shout of welcome, therefore, from some 
old acquaintances ; but these bouncing Bulgarian beauties 
only showed a white line of teeth, stretching across their 
bronzed and rich-complexioned faces, and they smiled at us 
in a kind, homely way, as we went scouring along the plain, 
a sight, maybe, for gossip. I use the word scouring as 
expressive of speed ; for the fact is, as we approached them, 
my bran-new Turkish bridle broke, of course, and the 
wrong-headed little Bulgarian pony on which I was 
mounted immediately changed the boring, dreary pace at 
which we had been going for the early part of the stage, 
and carried me into Bravida at railroad speed. 

i2 



116 



PICTURES FROM 



It is a dirty, straggling Turkish village, and the few 
houses I entered were miserable one-roomed huts, though 
the ample hearths and bright fires told of the inhabitants of 
a cold country, who had long learned a salutary respect for 
their national weather. The villagers were mere agricultural 
boors, with no apparent individuality about them. We 
could get nothing to eat ; but, after a diligent search, 
we did find a pipkin in which we made a decoction of 
tea, which we drank with much inward rejoicing and 
comfort. 

We had intended to get on as far as Shunila by a sort of 
forced march, but there was no moon, and night overtook us 
at Jeni Bazar (Newmarket), a place which was recently 
astounded by the residence of Lord Cardigan and the gay 
jackets of the 11th Hussars. The approach to this place 
was over roads so fearfully bad, and the night was so dark 
and rainy, that our horses fell down about once every five 
minutes on an average (sometimes oftener). At last, I, 
who had astonished my doctor, at Constantinople, by detail- 
ing to him the plan of my intended journey, suddenly lost 
consciousness, and fainted from fatigue. 

After this it was quite as prudent to dismount, as I could 
no longer hold up my horse. Luckily we were on the out- 
skirts of the village, and a Bulgarian peasant was at last 
aroused to accompany us with a lantern to the Khan. 
I was obliged to lean on his arm, and we had not gone 
many steps, in a style fitter for St. James's- street than a 
Turkish country road, when another great hulking fellow 
loomed up through the darkness, and tried to pull my arm 
away on to his own, aware that a bachshecsh would pro- 
bably go with it. I should have allowed myself to be 
transferred quite passively, but his proceedings happened to 
catch the eye of Beesto, who promptly thrashed him away 
from his hold. He contrived, however, to steal my pocket- 
handkerchief, with singular address, before he disappeared ; 
and I am sure I should have been compensated richly 
enough for the loss if I could only have had an opportunity 
of seeing what he did with it afterwards. 

At last we stopped at the Khan, having been just four- 
teen hours on horseback, and had the satisfaction of learning 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



117 



that if we had not come by Pravida, which is two hours out 
of the road, we might have reached Shumla with much less 
fatigue. 

We were tired enough, as has been said, but some coffee, 
and half an hour's sleep, before our supper of fowl and 
pilaff, soon set us to rights. It was fortunate we snatched 
our rest so cleverly, for we had scarcely done supper, when a 
military friend, posting up to Bucarest, broke in upon us 
with shout and halloo, and spoilt our night's rest with news 
and pleasant stories. We all sat down together, I remem- 
ber, grinning and begrimed — rather wet, rather tired, but 
with a power of drinking tea with brandy in it such as I 
have seldom seen equalled. We disposed of it out of a 
pilaff bowl, till our faces shone again with steam and honest 
satisfaction. 

Between three and four in the morning we were plashing 
on through mud and mist for Shumla, where we arrived 
after a fatiguing ride of four hours. The Khan here also 
was a wretched place, with several hulking, armed bar- 
barians hanging about it. We had the usual difficulty about 
breakfast, though the postmasters are compelled to furnish 
food to travellers. At last we got a curious composition of 
rank dried meat and onions. There was still the resource 
of tea, however, and some capital milk. 

We rode from Shumla at last amid a perfect storm of 
shouts and quarrelling about the horses ; for all the posters 
on this road have been cruelly overworked lately. One of 
ours fell down while being saddled, but his master kicked 
him up, and it was not till the poor brute fell down a second 
time that he was exchanged for another. 

We were so badly mounted, that our horses knocked up 
completely at a village about two hours from Basgrad; 
but we found capital quarters for the night in a peasant's 
hut. The poor people were very kind to us, got ready a 
bright fire, and an excellent dinner. We had minced beef, 
with slices of bread baked in the gravy, some fat boiled 
fowls, some pancakes, and a capital dish of forcemeat ; then 
we had some sherbet made of grapes, and wound up as 
before with some tea punch, after which we slept by the 
fire in perfect fairyland. I recollect half opening my eyes 



118 



PICTURES FROM 



once or twice, in the snug hut, lit by the uncertain glow of 
the wood fire, and on shutting them, being just conscious of a 
feeling of delightful repose altogether indescribable. 

On again, between three and four in the morning, and by 
the light of the moon for -Rasgrad. 

Our Tatar banged the postilion a good deal during this 
stage. " To mend it goan, sar," as he said. The fellow 
took his beating with much judgment and philosophy, only 
exposing the toughest parts of his person to the lash of 
his assailant. But how the natural spirit of a man must 
be cowed before he could submit to blows, on all occasions, 
in this way. 

In all well-governed communities the natural hope of gain 
is usually found sufficient motive for a poor man to serve a 
rich one, because he can insist by law on being fairly 
rewarded for his labour ; but in the countries of the East, a 
poor man has no honest chance against a rich one, and there- 
fore will only serve him under fear and compulsion : appa- 
rent superiority in these countries is so often allied to almost 
absolute power, however, that nothing is refused if com- 
manded stick in hand, or performed without it. 

As we approached Rasgrad, there were a good many signs 
of cultivation, and of the improved value of the land, which 
was very rich. The boundaries of different estates began 
to be marked by very well-made hurdles, and there was 
generally a trimmer air about things here than elsewhere. 
Stopping at a village, however, we went into a hut, where 
burned a fire, to light our pipes, and were startled by seeing 
an old woman baking bread, in a state of perfect nudity. 

The lights of Rasgrad showed a long way off through the 
grey of the morning, and the near approach to the town was 
very pretty. Passing through the gates, we met some old 
women w r alking before carts drawn by two oxen. Each 
carried a long staff or wand in her hand ; they looked 
wondrously like the witches of an elfin tale. 

As for Rasgrad, it appeared one vast armoury, and the 
lusty ring of hammers, and the glowing forms of burly 
smiths, were everywhere ; and the roaring furnaces, with 
bare-armed prentices running to and fro, showed briskly 
through many an open doorway. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



119 



The post-house, however, was a shocking little den of filthy 
discomforts, and nothing could be gob to eat there. We had 
also quite a negotiation about horses. We watched its 
progress, amused enough, while the armed men piled up the 
wood fire for us, — the high-capped Tatar sugaring our tea. 

We passed away from Kasgrad into a vast plain, fit to be 
the battle field of a world. It was covered with flocks 
and herds, with many signs of agricultural wealth ; but there 
were no houses, and the people crowding together in towns, 
and flying the open country, gives evidence enough of the 
unsettled state of the laws. 

We met here long trains of baggage-waggons of the 
Turkish army. They were all drawn by bullocks, and 
straggled away over many a mile, in a manner unmilitary 
enough. My companion, who had witnessed the Russian 
occupation of the Principalities, could not help contrasting 
the arrangements of the two armies : I need hardly say 
how much it was to the disadvantage of the Turks. 

So we went rambling along with our souroudjee before us. 
He was dressed in thick felt boots, with leather over-boots, 
a short dark brown frieze jacket, light brown braided 
breeches, and a sheepskin saddle, with the wool turned 
outwards. A gay coloured handkerchief was bound round 
his turban, and a short wooden pipe was stuck in the nape of 
his neck. 

After all, we were only travelling with our guide and 
pack-horses, in the manner in which folk travelled in 
England scarcely a hundred years ago ; and many a sign 
over a village alehouse, in far-away places, commemorates 
the existence of the British " Pack-horse." We stopped at 
a pleasant Bulgarian village on this day, and entered one of 
the houses to lunch. It was full of women and children ; a 
pretty half-civilized crowd. The hut seemed only one room, 
and that a poor one ; but having nothing to fear from us, 
one of the women soon opened a little concealed door, and 
crept through it on her hands and knees. It led to a large 
apartment beyond, where a bright fire was burning, and 
there were many signs of plenty. 

Here we ate some cheese and eggs. When we asked one 
of the women what was to pay, she smiled, and said, " Sen 



120 



PICTURES FROM 



bilirsen " (you know). We gave her about a shilling, with 
a handful of small Turkish coin, to the children. The air of 
comfort and abundance about the place was quite cheering. 

At night, we slept at a Turkish village, at the house of the 
Aga, and the next morning rode into Koustchouk. 

This town is prettily situated in a charming valley, shel- 
ving gradually down for several miles. The approach to it 
in summer must be positively enchanting ; but now it was 
almost impracticable. The streets were absolutely a lake of 
mud, and to me there hardly seemed a fairly habitable 
house in the whole town. 

I confess I could not take leave of Bulgaria without a very 
much worse opinion of the Turks than I had acquired in 
Asia Minor, or the Greek Islands. Even charity itself 
forgets indulgence, in contemplating a people whose pipes 
and ignorance have brought one of the richest countries in 
the world naturally to such a deplorable state as this : while 
tawdry overpaid pashas, a shadowy building Sardanapalus at 
Constantinople, and the great diplomatist of Navarino and 
Sinope, are rejoicing thereat. 

The whole of this splendid province, with the exception of 
a mere patch here and there in the neighbourhood of some 
considerable town, looks as if fire and sword were constantly 
sweeping over it. It bears the mark of the violent Man's 
hand everywhere, and of the ruthless hoof of his horse. 
Where his brand has not stricken, yet the fear of it has 
dismayed men's hearts, and crushed their energies. There 
they sit beside their beggared hearths in stupid apathy, know- 
ing how worse than useless it would be to arise and go forth. 

So where the harvests should be springing greenly, where 
the mill should be turning on the breezy heath, and the 
homestead smiling by the road-side, where the mart should 
flourish, and should rise the palace of the prosperous, the 
wind wails only over a marshy waste, where the wild goose 
and the bustard wing their heavy flight, and the plover 
calls. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



121 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

The Danube. The author is uneasy in his mind. Discourtesy of the 
waves. Their marked inhospitality and intrusiveness. A Walla- 
chian postchaise — agricultural purpose for which it appears to have 
been constructed. A traveller's troubles. Misinterpretation of his 
agonised request, and his final mummification. A dark night. 
A groaning post-boy. 

The passage of the Danube cost us a ducat, or about ten 
shillings, and we were glad to escape from the comfortless 
filth of Roustchouk on any terms. 

We passed over to Giorgeva in a sort of barge with six oars, 
and I should think that the passage was often very danger- 
ous at this season of the year. We escaped indeed, with a 
severe ducking, but I must allow that my mind was by no 
means easy with respect to the security of our conveyance 
upon several occasions. The current was not only strong, 
but the wind set dead against us, and in the middle of the 
stream their allied forces whirled our heavy boat about like 
a cockle-shell, and the waves swept over us in the most 
uncourteous way possible ; once also we got the heavy swell 
of an Austrian steamer as it passed down the stream, towing 
boats laden with provisions for the Turkish army, on its 
toilsome way to the Crimea. 

However, we arrived in about an hour at Giorgeva, 
dripping and bedraggled enough. Two Austrian officers on 
the shore immediately addressed some questions to us, I 
forget what, but I remember well how pleasant and homely 
the well-remembered Yiennese accent sounded on my ears. 

There is a capital hotel at Giorgeva, and we might have 
had excellent quarters there, but the weather was so com- 
fortless, that on the whole we decided it would be better to 
push on to Bucarest at once. 

In pursuance of this design we ordered post-horses, and 
after waiting for about an hour, three small wooden trucks, 
each drawn by four small ponies, came rattling to the door. 
They appeared to me to be some species of agricultural con- 
veyance for manure, and each of them was filled with short 



122 



PICTURES FROM 



rotten straw, that it was difficult to imagine answering 
any other purpose. On learning that they were Wallachian 
post-chaises, in which we were about to perform a journey of 
fifty miles, we could scarcely conceal our dismay and aston- 
ishment. We could easily have jumped over them back- 
wards, but to ride in them without being nailed to the 
loose boards, and these, being tied on to the axle, and 
this again to the post-boy by a cord, which secured also the 
horses, seemed impossible. A wheel indeed came off while 
one of them was clattering up to the door ; but nobody 
seemed to pay any attention to this circumstance, and it 
was soon put on again. 

At last we started — but I cannot describe the journey ; 
how, after five minutes, which nearly dislocated every bone 
in my skin, I implored the postboy to spare my life ; 
how he interpreted this agonized request into an angry 
command to go on ; how he did go on, till I was 
nearly choked with pain and laughter ; how subse- 
quently I crawled out quite mummified, and leaving 
my companion (who had learned to sit more judici- 
ously than I had been doing), to proceed on his journey 
alone ; how I dragged my discomfited steps back to 
Giorgeva, and finally obtained a better if a slower carriage ; 
how I passed an endless black marsh, through moaning 
winds and rains ; how my new coachman was a dreary 
young fellow, who stopped the machine every two or three 
minutes to ease his mind by a most unearthly groan and 
shudder ; how I was apprehensive that he was attacked by 
the cholera, and that he would drive me into a bog, where 
my cap, resting on the surface, would tell the snipes only of 
the fate of the solitary English gentleman ; and how, after 
twenty-four hours of positive suffering, my melancholy 
driving boy bumped me over the streets of Bucarest into the 
excellent hotel de Londres. 

The fact is, travelling in these countries is really a serious 
business, and I do sincerely return thanks to Providence for 
my safe arrival at the Wallachian capital. A man who goes 
from Bath or Manchester to London nods pleasantly to his 
brother who went there yesterday, and tells his wife to be 
sure not to wait up for him, for that he shall return by the 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



123 



mail train, which will not arrive till such o'clock at 
night. So away he goes, and nobody thinks about him. 

But here the parting from a dear friend must be often 
very touching, and it is small wonder that it has supplied 
such exquisite food for song and story. Perchance the 
traveller who last passed over the same ground incurred 
serious peril to person or property. 

The brother of the adventurous gentleman may have left 
his home for a short journey, and been never seen again 
alive or dead ; all can realize the perils of the enterprise on 
which he is about to embark. There are rapid rivers to be 
crossed, and undrained marshes, and mountain precipices. 
There are the dangers of flood, and fell, and faltering steed ; 
of sickness where there is no help, and of those numerous 
bands of robbers, who form quite a recognised class of the 
population of the country. So it is, that a journey of a few 
score leagues in an uncivilized land is almost as hazardous as 
a voyage from Britain, in search of the north-west passage. 
But enough. 



CHAPTER XXYII. 

Capuan Bucarest. The worst of Murray's hand-books. Sweeping 
censure by an unknown individual. Christian policy of Eussia. 
Registrars of small scandals. Consular frankness. My friend's 
acquaintance. A very honest man who was a judge. He insists 
on the usual bribe. Selecting a verdict. Confusion in the world's 
affairs created by the smallness of the Grey family. Charming 
anecdote of a French, statesman. 

In the worst of Murray's handbooks some dull contributor 
of routes has said, " Bucarest is the residence of an English 
consul, and the most dissolute town in the world." He pru- 
dently confines his remarks, however, to a few lines, and I 
am much inclined to doubt if he was ever there at all. 

Such a statement occurring in a book, which Mr. Mur- 
ray's name has introduced to the public notice, is almost as 
mischievous, as silly and untrue. It is precisely one of 
those calculated to create stupid international antipathies, 



124 



PICTURES FROM 



and to further no other purpose under the sun. The fact is, 
there are no most dissolute or least dissolute places in the 
world : mankind are very much the same everywhere \ and 
we shall find quite as much wickedness, if we care to go in 
the mud to hunt for it, in the county of Middlesex, or the 
department de la Seine, as in both the Principalities put 
together. 

The Wallachians seem to me, who am living among them, 
as kind-hearted and as simple a people as any I Lave ever 
known. There is a naive and delightful good-nature about 
them ; an unostentatious courage, and a patience under great 
national affliction, which it is quite touching to witness. 

The Principalities, notwithstanding their long connection 
with Pussia, are perhaps the most loyal portion of the 
Turkish dominions : yet the game which has been played 
with them for generations, was positively diabolical. The 
policy of Russia may be easily summed up. It was a deli- 
berate and wicked attempt to depreciate the character of the 
whole Rouman race. It worked wholly by corruption and 
sinister influences. It not only connived at the foulest 
public abuses, but it absolutely supported and invented them, 
even when no end was to be gained by it. 

It is needless, however, for it would be as tedious as un- 
profitable, to enter into this question. The Foreign Office 
must understand it well enough now, and the public can see 
by the issue of it. 

In mere light, sketchy pages like these, I can only speak 
of the social character of the Wallachs, and to that I am 
bound to bear the very highest testimony. All well- 
informed strangers living here unhesitatingly concur in it. 

One gentleman of great repute, who has lived here twenty 
years, told me but yesterday, " I have heard a great deal of 
evil about Wallacnian society, but I certainly never knew of 
any." ]Sow this is precisely what may be said of any capi- 
tal in the world ; and those who keep a register of small 
scandals, and then publish it, will not shake the faith to be 
attached to the evidence of such a wutness as this. 

I suspect the corruption of manners which has been so 
impudently charged, especially against the Wallaehians, will 
be found almost wholly among the men in office, who all 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



125 



belong to the Russian party. There is great mismanage- 
ment of the public money ; but we must not forget that 
Wallachia has not only the curse of being a Turkish pashalik 
upon it, but, to all intents and purposes, it has been hitherto 
under the blasting influence of Russian rule also. Such a 
deplorable state of things, such a government, and such a 
" protectorate," probably never paralysed the good energies of 
any country in the world, at any time which I can call to 
memory. 

The highest offices of the church and state were sold 
openly ; and sold on such terms that their honest and pure 
administration was impossible. Anything like constitutional 
opposition (though the Principalities had constitutions), 
anything like patriotic resistance, or effective remonstrance, 
against the worst of the worst things which might happen, 
was out of the question, as it was sure to incur the severest 
penalties which could, by any stretch of the law, be applied 
to the case. 

The prince, or the Russian consul, who meddled in every 
thing, sent at once for the offender, and told him frankly, 
" If you do not alter your conduct we will ruin you" — and 
they did so. They employed people to bring the absurd est 
claims against the object of their dislike, and the decisions of 
the courts were always against him. They violated the 
privacy of his home, and interfered with his domestic rela- 
tions ; they sent policemen to his house, on frivolous pre- 
texts, at all hours of the day and night. If he left the 
country, which he probably did, in despair, it was not difficult 
to find out where he went, and he was still worried and 
watched by the Russian authorities. 

A friend of mine knew a very honest man who was a 
judge. Having a cause, however, of some importance to 
bring before him, he called on him with the customary bribe. 
The judge at once refused to accept it ; but it so happened 
that there arose some delay in the matter, and, a few months 
afterwards, he had occasion to call again on the judge, who 
now grown warm in his office, had altogether changed his 
opinions, and bargained for his honour with all the coolness 
of a practised huckster. He also assured his visitor that 
the sums he himself was obliged to pay the authorities over 



126 



PICTURES FROM 



him rendered honesty impossible. In a word, if he were 
just he must lose his place, if corrupt he could keep it. 

It must be remembered that these are not random state- 
ments of current scandals, they are facts, I have received 
on the faith of some of the first gentlemen in the country. 

So the gay, splendid, easy Wallachians cultivated the light 
study of French philosophy, and shrugged their shoulders 
with wonderful good temper at what could not be helped. 

If one Boyard was so unfortunate as to be at litigation 
with another, each knew perfectly well that a decision in his 
favour could only be obtained by bribing the judges, and 
whoever bribed highest was sure of any verdict he selected, 
wholly irrespective of the justice of his claim. It was satis- 
factory to know this beyond dispute, because it enabled a 
man to arrange with his adversary at once. He had only to 
consider the amount which would be required for the pur- 
pose of influencing the court before which the affair would 
have to be brought, and then reflect if the value in dispute 
were lesser or greater. There was no alternative. 

An officer in the public service who received only a salary 
of five hundred ducats a year, as salary, was indeed very well 
understood to make ten thousand ; but it must by no means 
be forgotten, that the price he paid for his situation in the 
first instance, was also based on these emoluments. A petty 
official, who was enabled to measure the public lands by a false 
measurement, and then dispose of them by private contract 
for almost any price he pleased, was by no means the insig- 
nificant person he seemed to the uninitiated. His friendship 
was precious, his alliance as honourable as that of a French 
farmer-general in the eighteenth century. 

It is not very long since the government of every state in 
the world was almost a like marvel of iniquity. Who does 
not know how Walpole and Newcastle packed the House of 
Commons ? What was the conduct of Lord Castlereagh 
in Ireland ? and were there not, but a very little time 
ago, men still in office who had been colleagues of Lord 
Melville 1 

The infamy of a government, however, is no argument for 
the depravation of a people. There are men in the princi- 
palities as honest and high-minded as Hampden and Falk- 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



127 



land ; women who have acted a part in beautiful unwritten 
episodes of history, as noble as that of Lady Rachel Russell. 
Men who, in times of cruel public trouble, have passed 
calmly into beggary and exile for the sake of truth, and 
who have laid down their lives with a heroism as lofty as 
that of More. 

Men must not be charged with participation in evil merely 
because they are too weak to resist it, and see no present 
means of help ; or ladies be brought to shame for the lively 
doings of a few milliners and actresses. 

I believe, that the generally- received ideas about the 
Roumans must have come from Constantinople. In that case 
I can understand them. It must have appeared singular to 
the masters of Turkish harems, that there existed even 
within the empire of the Sultan, a people whose women did 
not require to be imprisoned into chastity ; and who could 
actually mingle among men at dances and banquets, keeping 
themselves pure in thought and deed. They were unable to 
grasp a fact which appeared to them so remarkable, and 
which the warm inclinations of their own ladies, whenever 
accident placed them for a moment at liberty, had taught them 
to consider at variance with one of the first laws of nature. 

Anastatius Hope tells a story of a Turk who made the 
most inadmissible proposals to the wife of an English minis- 
ter, because he saw her dancing at a ball. The Turks who 
came to Bucarest brought the same ideas with them. They 
knew nothing of distinction of ranks among women, or the 
purifying influence of education, for they themselves often 
married their slaves ; and, whether slaves or not, their 
women were utterly untaught in all arts save those of the 
kitchen and the harem. In all countries there are women 
who set themselves up for sale without passing into bondage. 
The Turkish pasha or tax-gatherer, who was sent into the 
Principalities, soon became a rich man, so that it became by 
no means remarkable that discreditable negotiations of this 
kind should be opened with him at Bucarest, as certainly as 
they would be in London or Paris. Yet we should be 
astounded enough to hear a Turkish ambassador libel English 
ladies merely because he had received an ill-spelled letter 
from Miss Merritoes, of the Theatre Royal Victoria. 



128 



PICTURES FR03I 



But, somehow or other, it always happens that we are slow 
to apply to other cases the lenient rules which appear to hold 
perfectly good in our own. It requires some one every now 
and then to cast up the log for us, as it were, and set us right 
about our neighbours. I shall be glad, then, if anything I 
have written may remove the foul stain which vulgar igno- 
rance and ungenerous credulity has dared to attach to the 
name of a whole people. 

I confess to a peculiar affection for the Wallackians. Per- 
haps none of the many various and conflicting races scattered 
over the vast surface of the Turkish empire, are more curious 
and interesting or so little known. It is positively heart- 
rending to witness the melancholy state to which they are 
reduced. Let us hope that whenever negotiations for peace 
shall be fairly on foot, something may be done for them. 
One is sorry to see, however, that in one of the articles of 
that puzzling Yienna treaty of December, a commission was 
appointed to inquire into their affairs, composed of Count 
Buol, M. de Bourquenet, and no less musical a genius than 
Lord Westmoreland. Of course, we can have nothing to do 
with the official appointments of foreign nations ; but most 
persons will make an indignant protest against Lord West- 
moreland having any power in another matter of which he 
can possibly know nothing. 

There is a gentleman at Bucarest who should certainly 
represent us in this matter, if we have the smallest regard 
for our national character or the abstract interests of truth. 
A gentleman whom twenty years' acquaintance with the 
affairs of the Principalities has qualified with a varied expe- 
rience ; a man of clear views and sound intellect ; whose 
influence and popularity in these countries is only equalled 
by his rare merit, and stainless integrity. 

But, then you see, his name is not Grey, nor is he in any 
way connected with " the family," which makes his employ- 
ment in diplomacy out of the question ! It is a sad thing 
for the interests of mankind that " the family " is not 
larger ! Suppose every sensible man were required, by law, 
to marry into it 1 Perhaps we might get on then ! 

The Wallach has not the arrogant howling nationality of 
the Greek. He is simply a quiet, modest; reasonable man, 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



who says — " I do not much care under what government I 
live, so that it is even a moderately good one; but I am unable 
to understand how my affairs can be arranged and my house 
set in order by three elderly gentlemen who have never even 
been to see it, and perhaps hardly know how to spell the 
very name of Bucarest. I also rather object," he adds, rea- 
sonably, " to my affairs being discussed at Vienna, where 
the voice of Russia, now terribly hostile to me, will be sure 
to have undue weight." 

The truth is, however, the "Wallachians are unknown. 
Their country offers little of interest for the virtuoso and the 
mere tourist. They have no representative either in London 
or Paris, where their fate is being really decided. Perhaps 
it would be much the same if they had ; for one of their 
best men tells a charming story on this head. He went to 
Paris for the purpose of laying the real state of affairs in 
Wallachia before M. Guizot, then the secretary for foreign 
affairs of the citizen king. After some difficulty, he obtained 
an audience with the minister. M, Guizot talked to him with- 
out interruption for just forty minutes, setting forth his own 
ideas, and then dismissed the Wallachian statesman without 
hearing a word he had to say. 



CHAPTER XXYIII. 

The joyous city. Difference between two historians. Author's apology 
for not entering into it with sufficient acrimony. The snow makes 
a respectable burgess with a blue nose. A waking-up pipe. In- 
glorious death of "a jolly fellow." Nature follows the example of 
the late Sir W. Raleigh. A new subject of polite conversation. 
The author's mistaken idea of a late administration. The sky goes 
into half-mourning. A refuge for destitute visitors. Clubs where a 
lord may meet a poet with impunity. The author supplies valuable 
instruction for calls and conversation. 

M. Kogalnitcha]* and Mr. "Wilkinson, the two best writers 
about "Wallachia differ respecting the origin of the name of 
Bucarest. According to the former it should be spelt Bucu- 
resci, and means the joyous city ; the latter says simply, 



130 



PICTURES FROM 



that it was built on the site of a village which once belonged 
to an individual named Bukor. 

I am not prepared to enter into this dispute with that 
vivacious acrimony becoming a man of letters, treating a 
subject on which few people can set him right, but personally 
I confess. I incline rather to the opinion of M. Kogalnitchan, 
for the capital of Wallachia is, I verily believe, the liveliest 
place under the sun. 

For my part, I think cold and gaiety go together. Hun- 
gary, Poland, Russia, Sweden, all the northern countries 
indeed, are as merry as can be on every possible occasion, 
while the warmer climates seem to have nothing more 
amusing than standing about in balconies, and looking out of 
window. 

I came home from a ball some time among the small hours, 
and now though it is but eight o'clock in the morning, 
the look-out from my bedroom is quite strange to me. I do 
not appear to have been introduced to it in fact, and eye it 
with the suspicious wonderment of a child before a dissolving 
view. 

My neighbour over the way, whom I remember very well, 
yesterday morning, a dirty hulking fellow with mud boots 
up to his hips, has become quite a respectable burgess in 
appearance. His nose is blue, his cheeks are red, he is clean 
and brisk as may be. His wife, the slatternly down-at-heel 
female whom I perfectly recollect floundering disconsolate 
about her premises any time since I came down here ten. 
days ago, seems positively braced up, and hardened into a 
buxom body enough. 

Ah ! it is the snow ! I understand it all after I have 
rubbed my eyes, and smoked a waking-up pipe. During 
the five or six hours I have been asleep, the ornamental uphol- 
sterers and decorators of nature have been at work so steal- 
thily that they have quite taken me by surprise, and there 
lies their dazzling handiwork four inches thick on my 
window-sill. 

"Well, I am agreeable ; we shall have some sledging in a 
day or two, and after all I shall witness one of the merriest 
national pastimes here. 

The snow is indeed the most welcome of visitors. Tester- 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



131 



day the mud lay a foot deep in the streets, and it was quite 
a nice matter to sit in a carriage without digging your 
elbow every now and then into the ribs of any gentleman 
rash enough to act on the belief that there would be a 
vacant seat beside you. In point of fact, the vacant seat 
was altogether a delusion and a snare. The largest carriage 
was not large enough for the smallest individual ; in the 
course of less than five minutes he infallibly went bumping 
over every part and portion of it. He knocked his elbow in the 
most uncompromising way against the apron-hooks or the 
window-sills, according t o the nature of the conveyance. I had 
personally to deal with apron-hooks, and very exasperating 
they were, especially when they got hold of my funny-bone, 
and gave it a tug more than ordinarily severe, as we tumbled 
through a rut deeper than usual. 

Also I heard a story on the faith of an Austrian officer 
awfully arrayed, that a party of soldiers sent on some 
service or other to a village, not an hour's ride from Bucarest, 
actually got bogged in the mud, and were obliged to be 
drawn out by oxen and ropes. I heard likewise, upon credible 
authority, of a drunken man, who fell down and was 
smothered, and died in the mud before he could be rescued. 
In a word, there is no end to the stories I have heard about 
the mud, and I am very glad to see that the clerk of the 
weather has taken example by the late Sir Walter Raleigh, 
and thrown down a very elegant white cloak to shield the 
steps of the queens of Bucarest from its profanation. 

There is another advantage about the snow, which I am 
sure will be appreciated by every lady and gentleman in 
good society, it will supply the readiest and most lively topic 
of conversation for many days. The talk about the mud was 
nothing to it. It will cut out the mud as completely as 
Mr. Blank cut out his colleagues (in every sense of those 
words) of that wonderful Dash administration, which 
astounded mankind a year or two back. 

Besides, the mud was such a dreary affair. It required a 
robust and energetic cheerfulness of constitution to get the 
smallest hilarity out of it. If you tried the most modest of 
jokes on the hateful subject, the ladies cast down their eyes 
on the pretty dresses fresh from Paris (as most things are 

k 2 



PICTURES FP.OM 



here indeed, from gloves to manners), and reproved your 
unreasonable attempts at levity with a sigh that was quite 
excruciating. The sky also did not add, by any means, to 
the popular pleasantry. It was usually of a dull, heavy, 
half-mourning colour, and appeared to be made to order for 
the customers of Messrs. Somebody & Co., of the funeral 
establishment, in Regent-street. I am told, however, that 
we shall have the merriest weather in the world now, when 
the snow-storm ceases ; and I feel inestimably grateful, not 
only for having something to talk about, but for the improved 
means of transit, in going from house to house to say it. 

By the way, what a convenient resource those neutral 
topics of conversation are to the wisest and wittiest. The 
rain, the wind, the mud, the snow, the sun, the showers, 
all those valuable items which go to make up that glorious 
whole, " the weather." I look upon them as so many refuges 
for destitute visitors. They are half-way houses, where one 
can nod good-humouredly to the dullest intellect, and hob a 
nob with it without being obliged to ask it home to dinner — 
clubs where a lord may meet a poet, without being promptly 
required to read the latest and most incomprehensible edition 
of his works. 

A judicious person, who will only give himself the trouble 
to collect a small stock of approved puns on this subject, 
may pass for a wit all his life on the strength of them. The 
joke about the heat, which did the most arduous service 
last year, may be brought out again quite fresh this summer ; 
for perhaps there are not half-a-dozen good things ever said 
which can be remembered twelve months by anybody but a 
professed diner-out. All an intelligent talker about the 
weather will have to do, therefore, is not to bring out his 
stock of July goods in December, which would infallibly 
spoil all. 

In truth, however, the most original genius wants a good 
ready serviceable subject of conversation for strangers. It 
is impossible to run wildly up to a man and ask him bluntly 
what are the " four points" of those mysterious and puzzling- 
treaties negotiated by his Excellency Lieut enant-General 
the Earl of Fiddlededee, at Vienna. You cannot tell a 
lady briefly that you have called on her for no other 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



133 



purpose than to be asked to her ball next Thursday, because 
Mrs. Titania has told you she was going there. You cannot 
abruptly say, " Hunks, my boy, I am going to overdraw my 
account a few hundred pounds next week, and I shall not be 
able to pay up again till next rent-day, or the week after." 
You cannot say plumply, " Sir, I have come to ask you why 
you have been turned out of the ministry, or if there is any 
truth in the report that your brother is to be dismissed from 
his command in the Yellow Sea." 

On the contrary, it is in the highest degree necessary to 
beat blandly about the bush. The world does not love too 
much straightforwardness. It prefers to be tickled, and it 
must and it will be tickled by all who wish it well, or them- 
selves either. 

Then again, on the most ordinary occasion, I think I have 
seen people in the best regulated families who positively 
appear to lay in wait to catch a talker tripping. Advance 
the most patent fact, and they bristle up to dispute it. 
Utter the purest sentiment, and they sneer at it. Be witty, 
and they are huffed. Be grave, and they yawn. Be friendly 
or confidential, and behold you will find every word that 
you say weighed in an unjust balance, and carried a scan- 
dalous cheat, perhaps precisely where you are most anxious 
for golden opinions. One has to deal with so many of these 
people, that it is positively necessary to be armed at all 
points in treating with them. To measure words as more 
precious than jewels, to recollect everything said, and so 
convict them of wilful and wicked lying when they grow 
spiteful. 

It is not pleasant to go into such companies, the mind gets 
into a sort oi stocks ; but this is not to be helped now and 
then. 

Lastly, if you do not wish to commit yourself with, a 
person whose alliance or good- will is doubtful, a chat about 
the snow, adroitly managed, will let you into as many 
glimpses of the heart as if you tried with labour and dis- 
cordant clank to hammer away till you made a hole in it, on 
some more compromising and important point. 

People very soon understand each other ; and no matter 
what they talk about, their secrets will peep out if they 



134 



PICTURES FROM 



concern you, and you watch for them. Who does not 
remember even the sneeze of the old Scotch wife in the story, 
whose husband averred himself satisfied with that ambiguous 
concession, when he was assured that it came from her heart. 
Lest, however, I should- appear to be growing a trifle too 
obscure for plain every-day people, I will give an example to 
show what I mean. Loq. : — 

Judicious Individual. — " A snowy morning 1 ' 

Hostile Party.—" Hah ! " 

Dry ditto. — " Hum ! do you think so V 

Cautious ditto. — " I have not observed it." 

Caustic ditto. — " Very odd." 

Neutral ditto.—" Yes." 

Polite ditto. — " Extremely so." 

Friendly ditto. — " Yery ! What a bore ! it will cut up 
the hunting." 

Cordial ditto. — " I believe you, my boy ; jolly times for 
boys and snow-balls. Come and look at my new stables, 
there is a capital place for a weed on the corn-bin, and I 
want your advice about my little bay mare's off fore-leg." 

So on; and a clever conversationist can find out on what 
ground he stands in the twinkling of a bedpost. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

The Boyard explains why Britain should be just. He appropriates to 
his own use an idea on free-trade belonging to her Majesty's subjects 
in Manchester. He hints at the difficulty of buying cottons with- 
out money. The paradise of Jewish gentlemen and purgatory of 
landholders. We are abruptly asked to establish a free govern- 
ment without paying for it. The Sultan of Morocco ; his interests 
have been disgracefully neglected by the Western Powers. Shock- 
ing indifference of the Wallachians about titles. Have and want. 
Crowded state of the Russian road to honours. The price of knight- 
hood. The author listens benignly while the Boyard breaks forth 
in obstreperous panegyrics of the British nation. 

But how and why should England assist you ? The latter 
is really the question likely to be asked by our plain prac- 
tical public men. We have sympathy, indeed, with oppressed 
nationalities, and should be glad if they could better them- 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



135 



selves in a quiet sensible way ; but I doubt if we are likely 
to help them without a very sufficient reason. 

" We know that," answered the Boyard gravely, " but 
the question stands thus : — England is becoming every year 
less and less of an agricultural country, while our people are 
altogther labourers on the soil. There is no country better 
fitted in the world to be one of your principal granaries 
than ours, supposing the free navigation of the Danube 
and the Black Sea were once fairly assured. The united 
population of Wallachia and Moldavia is scarcely four millions, 
and our corn lands could support at least twenty millions. 
The riches of our soil are almost incredible, yet we had 
miles and miles of it untilled, while even the hardiest 
portion of your countrymen, the bone and sinews of your 
land, were emigrating in hundreds of thousands from sheer 
starvation ; and you spent eight million pounds in one 
year without relieving the frightful sufferings of the 
Irish. 

" But we have not a manufactory in the land, and we do 
not want one. We have too much employment on the farm 
to be able to spare hands for the loom. Almost every 
manufactured article comes to us from abroad. We import 
our shoes, stockings, hats, gloves, and clothing generally ; 
our saddle-horses and carriages, saddlery, guns, and cutlery ; 
our plates, dishes, linen, and glass ; our furniture and uphol- 
stery ; our watches, clocks, and jewellery ; our paper, ink, 
beer, wine. We import even, I am afraid, our conversation 
and ideas ; we are made to be friends ; we have what you 
want and will want, more and more ; you have almost all 
that we require. Free trade and a sound commercial treaty 
between us would secure you on the one hand from famine, 
and us from financial ruin on the other. 

" For we cannot always go on buying foreign manufactured 
goods without selling our own corn. The effects of this war 
have been fearful for us ; some of the wealthiest of our 
nobles have been forced to sell their estates, our traders are 
on the verge of ruin. But for the consumption of the armies 
we could hardly have held out at all ; this has helped us a 
little, but only a little. 

" Money is at legal interest of only ten per cent., but really 



136 



PICTURES FROM 



it is hardly to be obtained now under thirty, and that on 
good security. Who can improve his estate if he is obliged 
to borrow at this rate 1 We must soon grow parsimonious, 
content with the little moneys we can raise from our semi- 
waste lands, and stand still in a half-barbarous state, while 
all the world is going on. 

" Yet we are not a poor country. If you give us our inde- 
pendence we shall not ask you for a loan to support it, as 
Greece did. "We have money, we have very extensive lands 
and forests of public right, the annual value of which would 
be quadrupled under fair management. We ask you only 
to regulate our form of government at starting ; not, by any 
means, to pay for it afterwards. You might help us, as I 
have explained, with advantage to yourselves, for you would 
thus open a new, or at least a more extensive market for 
the goods with which the warehouses of your manufacturers 
are gorged ; and you might aid us without the smallest sacri- 
fice of any kind. 

" Turkey has no rights over the government of our country. 
She is, indeed, bound most stringently not to interfere with 
it, however often she may have done so. The relations 
between us stand thus. We have agreed, by repeated treaties, 
to acknowledge her nominal supremacy, and to pay her a 
trifling annual tribute in consideration of being protected 
against the encroachments of Austria and Russia. We have 
fulfilled our part of the contract, how she has performed hers 
let history tell you. 

" In like manner Sweden and Denmark, dreading the 
depredations of the Barbary Corsairs, agreed once upon a 
time to pay tribute to the Emperor of Morocco. About ten 
years ago, however, perceiving that the Moors were no 
longer terrible, they abruptly ceased this tribute, and the 
nations of Europe held that they did quite right. jSTo Chris- 
tian ally of the Emperor of Morocco ever dreamed of inter- 
fering in the matter, and there it ended. We do not, 
however, propose to take the sensible course adopted by 
these powers for a precedent. We will be content to hold 
by the condition of a compact wrung from us during a 
panic felt by all the chivalry of Europe in the fourteenth 
century. We have not the smallest objection to continue 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



137 



payment of the tribute if we can obtain a guarantee that 
we shall be no longer treated as a Turkish pashalick, and 
that the Porte will keep her faith as we keep ours. 
Bat Turkey wants money, and we have it to give her. 
It is the opinion of all our best men that it would be safer 
and wiser to purchase the quit-rent we pay to Turkey for 
our country, say at fifteen or twenty years' value. 

" We should then become our own masters, and it is the 
general belief among us that we should be better governed 
by a foreign ruler. Call him duke, prince, or hospodar, as 
you will. Yet we have not cast our eyes on any particular 
prince \ and it is possible, that if the supreme power were 
only made hereditary in any one of our four or five principal 
families, the government would work well after the first pangs 
of jealousy were over. Our young men are all for a republic 
and a presidency, wuth other Utopian schemes, for which 
we are by no means far enough advanced. This has injured 
us ; most of our youth were also compromised in the affair 
of 1848, and their elevation would be strenuously opposed 
by Russia and Austria. Our elders are objectionable from 
very different reasons ; few, perhaps none, have escaped the 
taint which attached to all our politicians of the last genera- 
tion. The antecedents of no family or man among us are 
completely satisfactory. 

" Our curse has been the instability of our government. 
There was always a possibility of overturning the reigning 
prince, by intrigues at Constantinople, St. Petersburg, or 
Vienna. There were always plenty of aspirants to power 
who desired to effect this. Hence the immense influence of 
the Russian consul, who was always ready to offer the aid 
of the Czar to that party which promised most ; hence the 
base system of bribery and corruption, the intrigues and 
cabals at Stamboul ; hence the fierce jealousies among our 
principal families. No plain-dealing man could thrive in the 
country ; to be honest was to remain obscure. We have 
few public amusements, no clubs, no press, no literature, 
little education, and no political life worthy of the name ; 
we have been driven to trifling, gambling, and intrigue ; 
when infamy seemed the only road to honour, there were 
enough to take it. We have seen a father receive a Russian 



138 



PICTURES FROM 



decoration for his daughters shame ; rewards given for 
treason at the hearth to spies on their own kindred ; I have 
heard men of no mean position among us, boast of knavery 
which should have sent them to the galleys ; you will meet 
in the stateliest of our houses, men known to have committed 
burglaries, to have cheated at cards, spies, and ravishers of 
pure women. Russia tried hard to degrade us as a 
people ; it is sharp to own that she succeeded, but it is 
true. 

" And so the honesty and intellect of our land cries aloud 
to you to save us. We love the French : most of our youth 
have been educated in Paris ; their minds have been formed 
by the great French authors, and they have been taught to 
think by her statesmen and publicists ; we love them for 
the brilliancy of their national character, for their light wit 
and graceful bearing, for their sparkling philosophy, for their 
chivalry and valour. But we do not look with more confidence 
than the rest of the world, on the stability of their govern- 
ment ; we cannot rely on them. France is fond of changing 
her political agents, and has often disavowed them when 
they promised us fairly ; therefore, all that is thoughtful and 
masculine in the land turns to great England, and our states- 
men and public men hope in you only. 

" Do with us as you will, we shall be contented. We shall 
have no jealousy of a prince you may choose for us. We 
submit ourselves blindly to your guidance ; for we have 
long learned to respect and admire your good faith, and 
your unvarying honesty. We have read of the simple and 
manly eloquence of your Commons, till it has stirred our 
hearts like the call of a trumpet with a silver sound, and its 
echo will never die away from among us. There are great 
men in England whom we toast at our banquets, and honour 
in our homes ; who utter no public word we do not register. 
May they take compassion upon us, for our burthen is sore. 
As yet, the worst abuses of our worst governments are 
suffered to go on. There is a party, a small one now, it is 
the Russian party, who are interested in supporting them : 
who still look to St. Petersburg to renew their license to 
pillage, and our shame ; but the rest of us are listening with 
parched ears for only one word from you to bid us hope. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



139 



If it is spoken, our national troubles will clear away like the 
mists of the morning." 

So spoke the Boyard, as we scudded in our little carriage 
up and down the chaussee, bowing to the fair ladies who 
drove there in crowds to show their luxury and beauty, 
and watching the Austrian officers as they rode about in 
Coventry, no man speaking to them, or mixing with them. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

The author expresses a singular opinion. Convenient course recom- 
mended to the reader. Remarkable instance of national modesty. 
The author distressingly refers to the weary treaty of Balta Liman 
and "1848." Agreeable prospect held out to the aristocracy, and 
becoming contempt for the people. Startling proposal for the 
abolition of monopolies. Life peerages, and other combustible 
matters. Raging of the Reform fever, and necessity for quarantine 
on vessels from Galatz. Disposition of Wallachians to flare up and 
join the union. Good reasons for raising the value of house pro- 
perty at Bucarest expressed by the inhabitants of that capital. 
They propose to purchase an allied army, and believe that Russia 
is passing through a valuable course of study. Their reprehensible 
project for curtailing a superfluous vice-royalty. Their present 
violent pacification and wrathful hopes. 

The best way to find out what is really best to be done, in 
most cases, is to ascertain what the persons chiefly interested 
appear to want, and then to form our opinions on their own 
statement of their case, corrected by all we can gather 
likewise from unprejudiced people. 

I will endeavour to sum up, therefore, the questions re- 
lating to the Danubian Principalities in as short a chapter 
as possible, and the reader who does not consider himself 
interested, or who is disinclined to sit in judgment on these 
matters, may at once turn to the next. The Boyard s, who 
represent all the education and intelligence of these countries, 
desire, in a word, a constitution and a foreign prince. 
They wish to purchase their independence of Turkey, by 
paying fifteen or twenty years of the tribute at once. They 
say that Wallachia and Moldavia, joined together under 



140 



PICTUKES FROM 



one government, would make a respectable European state, 
with a population of four millions. 

They desire that the supreme power should be made 
hereditary. They object to the principle of electing the 
sovereign, as disturbing men's minds, and wasting the public 
money. They assert that they shall never be able to agree 
on the choice of a native prince ; that the nomination of one 
would only excite dangerous jealousy ; and that there is no 
one among them fit, by his education or antecedents, for 
supreme power, or who would be able to secure the loyalty, 
or curb the license of the aristocracy, or be free from foreign 
influence and dishonest followers. 

A prince of one of the smaller powers, Belgium or 
Portugal, would appear to suit them best, as least likely to 
arouse the jealousy of the great powers, and most free from 
political bias towards Russia or Austria. They do not 
require a prince of their own religion, but suggest that his 
children should be brought up in that faith, lest Eussia 
should, hereafter, endeavour to work on the religious feel- 
ings of the people, as she has hitherto done. They require 
a representative system, as most in accordance with the 
ancient traditions of the country ; for it was not till after 
the treaty of Balta Liman, that their general assemblies 
were suppressed, and they preserved a constitution which 
had many elements of freedom, till the luckless year of 
1848, when the rash torrent which destroyed so much 
liberty elsewhere, swept also over theirs. 

They propose to limit the right of voting to the higher 
classes, as the only persons yet sufliciently educated to exer- 
cise it ; all public schools having been abolished since 1848, 
and the ignorance of the people being as yet deplorable. 

They desire the abolition of slavery, and the establish- 
ment of perfect equality before the law. Equal taxation ; 
the abolition of vexatious privileges and monopolies ; the 
eligibility of all classes to all posts in the public service ; 
life peerages, conferring a seat in the chamber, as a means of 
raising the importance of the nobility, who would now be 
the only class capable of checking any undue assumption of 
power on the part of the prince. They desire a sweeping 
reform in all branches of the administration, and that ability 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



141 



or service rendered to the state, shall be the only claim for 
office ; a responsible ministry ; a chamber of which two- 
thirds shall be composed in equal parts of nobles and land- 
holders, and the remaining third of meritorious men, of 
whom no property qualification shall be required, but who 
shall not, nevertheless, be paid by the state ; finally, that all 
persons shall be eligible to vote at the age of twenty-five, 
and to be elected at thirty. 

Respecting the union of "Wallachia and Moldavia, they 
assert that it is the ardent desire of all parties to see those 
two countries united. In 1817, when the Customs union 
was proposed, it was carried without a dissentient voice, 
although it was disadvantageous, on the one hand, to the 
distillers of Wallachia, and to the trade in cattle of Moldavia. 
Every man was prepared to sacrifice a private interest for 
the public good. 

Bucarest is proposed as the capital of the new state, 
because it is the most popular and nourishing town. It has 
also the advantage of being removed at a safe distance alike 
from the frontiers of Austria, Russia, and Turkey, an 
advantage not possessed by Yassy, Galatz, or Ibraila, which 
have been put in competition with it. 

They consider that their safety would be assured by the 
establishment of a fortress at the mouths of the Danube, 
which should be garrisoned by British and French troops 
till they could organize a military force of their own ; for 
this they would agree to pay, and then, as they differ both 
in manners and sympathy from Russia, they would oppose a 
formidable barrier to her encroachment, should she ever be 
disposed to forget the lesson she is now receiving. Lastly, 
there would be an immense saving of expense in the esta- 
blishment of a single government for the two states. Mean- 
while, as things now are, the Moldo-Wallachians will 
remain quiet just so long as they are coerced by foreign 
bayonets, and no longer. And this is briefly what the 
Boyards say. 



142 



P1CTUEES FROM 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

The author becomes excited on the subject of flirtation. His ardent 
attachment to female rule. An excellently confectioned lady. The 
line of beauty in eyebrows. A little china pot of complexions, 
price £5 5s. Stultz makes the man — the want of him the fellow. 
Advantages of politeness in society. The author professes an 
orthodox faith in tight boots. Gentleness of rival ladies. Their 
mutual tenderness. Their great sweetness of disposition ; and 
charity. The author puts on the black cap, and pronounces the 
extreme sentence of the law on the miscreant sincerity. Risible 
wretchedness of Corydon and Phillis. A fashionable purveyor of 
delicacies. 

I coxfess that I look upon a flirt as a public good. We 
must live a deal on the surface of things if we wish to live 
pleasantly. We cannot be always having ardent sentiments of 
strong friendship or symipathy for people we are not perhaps 
destined to talk to ten times in the course of our existence ; 
and yet the sooner we get on gay gossipping terms with 
them, when we do meet, the better. 

You and I, fair lady, know very well all about each other 
at a glance. I see that you are excellently confectioned, 
that you dye your eyebrows with much discernment, and 
after the most careful study of the line of beauty ; that you 
purchase your complexion at five guineas a little china pot, 
and that it must be, in short, rather a singular sight even 
for your French maid to see you pulled to pieces when 
you retire to your balmy couch at night. On the other 
hand, you perceive at once that my whiskers are very care- 
fully attended to ; that I have my hair made at Truefitfc's ; 
the calves of my legs and the manliness of my chest by 
Stultz or Nugee. We do not deceive each other ; and I 
take it that we really do not pretend to do so. But suppose 
we agree to treat each other as young people in the first 
blush of youth and beauty? why it will be a delightful 
entertainment for us, and nobody will be a loser. Each will 
have the satisfaction of quietly laughing at the other for an 
antiquated piece of absurd pretension, while our own personal 
vanity in our dear selves will be satisfied to intoxication. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



143 



Is not all this in far better taste, and more in accordance 
with the tenets of good society, than snuff-taking and indif- 
ference, to say nothing of wrinkles and bald heads. I am 
all for being young and merry. I intend to take a new lease 
of youth whenever the old one runs out. I will shave off 
my whiskers, and black my moustaches, and torture my 
toes as long as I live. I think it is very natural that other 
people should do the same. 

There are my worthy and estimable neighbours, for in- 
stance, on the ottoman in the corner ; they are quite as 
much impressed with the truth of this philosophy as we 
can be. It is most refreshing to watch their animated con- 
versation i animated in spite of a certain air of sentimental 
melancholy which seems to pervade it. Those excellent 
individuals were lovers just ten years ago, and one of them, 
no matter which, behaved about as badly as possible. Not- 
withstanding those ten long years, with all their change and 
circumstance, one of them entered the room with a quivering 
lip, and an eye which seemed unsteady enough, if you cared 
to watch it. But the other, an accomplished flirt, saw the 
game at once, and swooped upon it. The delicious pain is 
sinking deeply into the heart of the poor quarry now ; yet 
I am much mistaken if it will not turn out a sort of counter 
stimulant or homoeopathic remedy in the end. 

Beside them, and in affectionate discourse, are seated two 
ladies who have hated each other with extraordinary bitter- 
ness all their lives. They are sworn rivals and foes. They 
will positively spit fire about each other at dinner, and philo- 
sophical gentlemen sitting beside them at remote ends of the 
table will think with fear and trembling of the mordant and 
acrid gall in hostile ladies' hearts. Each of them is now making 
up a telling little anecdote about the other, to enliven the court, 
which will bow round her at her own tea-table after the 
theatre by-and-by : yet sisters who had grown up together, 
and who had had almost one heart and one mind from child- 
hood, could hardly chat together with more apparent joy and 
cordiality. Again, there are . three gentlemen who have 
never entertained the same ideas on any given subject, and 
who are all strong thinkers. They have the very worst 
possible opinion of each other, both privately and publicly. 



144 



PICTURES FROM! 



They know all about each other, and very much more than is 
true. Each religiously believes that if the other had his 
deserts he would be at Jericho, to use the mildest expres- 
sion ; yet look how those three white waistcoats cluster 
together, and penetrate the dark secrets of the hearts which 
beat beneath them, if you can. 

Contrast those amiable and lively folk with the dull ones 
who have not yet learned the delightful art of flirting. With 
Dumps and Doleful, neither of whom would cast a single 
look at even the studs in the other's shirt-front for any 
consideration whatsoever ; who are always sparring when- 
ever they meet ; who are a nuisance to the hosts who ask 
them to the same party, unsuspicious of their feud, and who, 
in fact, rather disturb the harmony of the evening by their 
determination to leave him no longer in ignorance. Com- 
pare our frolicsome friends with Corydon and Phillis, who 
have an unfortunate attachment at which everybody is 
laughing, because of their indiscreet efforts to conceal that 
which has been town-talk these three months. If the lady 
would banish those quick-coming blushes, and her absent 
air. If she would contrive to answer not quite so much at 
cross purposes to the mischievous dandy who has been sent 
by an opposition coterie to harry her. If she would tell 
Corydon plainly to lead her into dinner, give him her gloves 
and her handkerchief to take care of without the smallest 
embarrassment, both of them would pass a most invigorating 
evening, and nobody would trouble himself or herself any 
further about them. As it is, look at that little knot of 
sparkling plagues who have got poor Corydon in the midst 
of them, and pity him ; for his shepherd wit is no match for 
the light dashing attacks of those pitiless amazons. I should 
never be surprised at his getting into a scrape. Perhaps 
three days hence he will receive by some mysterious hand a 
passionate note from his distracted Phillis. She will im- 
plore him as a personal favour, and as the least he can do to 
repair the frightful mischief he is now committing, only just 
to make the grand tour as the only means left of delivering 
her from the sharp persecution of envious tongues. Twenty 
years hence, may be, Corydon and Phillis will compare notes, 
and by that time having learned more of the hidden things 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



145 



of life, especially with respect to flirting, they will wonder at 
their own simplicity. Wonder at it, though with a kind of 
pitying love for themselves, as they are now. 

" But, princess, do you vouchsafe me no word to-night ? 
I have watched for a vacant chair beside you almost long 
enough to deserve one." 

" You think the martyrdom of ten minutes' conversation 
with Madaine Zoe sufficient to deserve a smile from me ; 
you value it highly ; but tell me, is not the dear countess 
growing deaf?" 

" Deaf ! what a delicious calumny ; what ingenious pur- 
veyor of delicacies has brought it to you ?" 

(i Les on dits." 

" Charming tattlers I" 

" But did you not notice it yourself?" 

" Can I see spots in the sun ?" 

" Nay, scarcely, when you are dreaming, as you were just 
now." 

a Is it not well to dream in the presence of a cruel reality 1 
Perhaps it would be better if I were dreaming still (the 
princess is forty-seven)." 

" For your eyesight 1 " 

" Which is dazzled ; and for my heart, in pain." 
" Quel galant homme ! " 

" One must be rough indeed not to find gallantry beside 
your highness ; and I have been banished from your boudoir 
an age — these three days I" 

" A voluntary exile. Come to dinner to-morrow ; I will 
ask Madame Zoe." 

" I will come even on conditions, since there is no perfect 
happiness in the world; no manna at Bucarest, and no 
opera in Arabia the blessed ; and no peace for the swain 
who " 

" There is a leaf from one of my camel ias fallen ! Poor 
flower !" 

" And happy I. How I watched it flutter to the carpet ; 
and see, it sleeps secure among my tablets ! " 
" Will you grant me a waltz to-morrow?" 
" Do you deserve it ?" 

" Nay, that would be impossible to knightly worth !" 



146 



PICTURES FROil 



" Artless diffidence ! For which dance do you ask i" 

" For which could I ask but the first? Though more 
than hope can dream, shall friendship less require 1 M 

" But I shall not be there for the first." 

" I mean, of course, the first after your arrival. The ball 
will not begin before — to me." 

" Do you promise to make a confusion for me ? " 

" I promise 1" 

" I accept then !" 

So the promise for a waltz is chronicled, as the doors swing 
wide on their hinges, and the Albanian servants, all scarlet 
and gold embroidery, marshal us through hall and corridor 
to the banquet ; and the princess and I, being separated in 
the order of march, may say just the same tilings over again 
to our respective neighbours. 

Dear lady, am I then so old, 

A grandsire to resemble ? 
You marvel that my words are cold, 

When they but fear to tremble. 

'Tis well for friendship to be wise, 

And summon all his art, 
When ladies have such dangerous eyes, 

And he so weak a heart. 

Blame not the vanquished wretch who flies 

A captive's doom or chain ; 
The doughtier hero who defies 

The peril oft is slain. 



CHAPTEE XXXII. 

Mr. Jones. His immaculate mediocrity. His consequence. His 
mysterious mission. His touching confidence in the Austrian- 
Prussian police. Profitable secrecy. Lord Fiddlededee. His 
private banker and confidential man. Messrs. Abraham, Isaac, 
and Jacob. Mr. Jones improves on acquaintance. He is not too 
clever. He condemns unorthodox things and people. His keen 
eye for his own interests. His unseen influence on society. He is 
Mrs. Grundy in blanks. 

Ouk merry little capital has been much impressed during 
these last few days, by the important advent of Mr. J ones. 
Mr. Jones is a British magnate ; in other respects truth 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



147 



is long silent about him, though conjecture is busy. It has 
been surmised that Mr. Jones is passing through Bucarest 
for the purpose of taking the command in chief of our 
armies in the Crimea, Some have been even heard to 
whisper that his destinies are yet higher, and that he has 
actually arrived for the purpose of replacing the British 
agent and consul-general for Wallachia, It has been hinted 
that he is a contractor on a large scale come to buy up all 
the food and clothes in the country. There have been 
meetings among the Jews and Greek corn-dealers, in con- 
sequence of the prevalence of this idea ; but, in point of 
fact. Mr. J ones's real mission is a mystery. 

His appearance was preceded by electric telegraphs, and 
special messengers came riding in hot haste with news of 
him. A boat was sent up the Danube, in spite of the 
gathering frost, to meet him, and at last this coming man 
dawned upon Bucarest in two carriages and ten, a travelling 
cook, and a secretary. 

Expectation was on tiptoe, as well it might be, yet 
nothing transpired of the mysterious visitor. It was known 
that he was continually sending off despatches by the electric 
telegraph, and appeared likely to do so till further notice, 
with that reckless disregard of expense, supposed by 
foreigners to be so truly Britannic, but which might lead 
Britons to suspect that he had something to do with the 
concern. It is hinted, in well-informed circles, that the 
officer in charge of the telegraph was waylaid, and the con- 
tents of one of Jones's despatches extracted from him while 
in a state of panic from bodily fear. It is certain, at all 
events, that it transpired. It was written in mystic 
character, however, apparently, and so only to be read of 
course by the Austrian and Prussian police authorities, 
through whom it will be transmitted with touching confi- 
dence. 

I am happy to be able to give the contents of that des- 
patch entire, as communicated to me by a personal friend, 
who had bribed the butler of a very important personage 
to obtain an autheDticated copy : — 

"1/1/55. B. safe. Fine, frosty; no bother. Mr. C. 
Trump. No difficulty whatever. Ten per cent, at least, 



148 



PICTURES FROM" 



perhaps more. 36 flannel waistcoats. Kiss Bessy. 5th, 
Varna." 

Such is the whole of this remarkable document, and the 
sensation it has created among all classes here may be better 
imagined than divined, — a sensation which has become 
almost painful, since it transpired that a letter has been 
received by Messrs. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, from their 
cousin, a gentleman of Caucasian origin, attached to our 
embassy at Timbuctoo, and who is very well known to be 
the private banker and confidential man of no less a per- 
son than his Excellency Lieutenant-General the Earl of 
Eiddlededee. 

The contents of this important missive, which arrived at 
midnight by a special courier, have not of course been made 
public. Messrs. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, understand 
too well the necessity of preserving a sacred mystery on all 
diplomatic matters communicated to them by their distin- 
guished relative, to allow the exclusive information obtained 
at so much cost to become generally known. 

Sufficient that the head of the firm was thereby enabled 
to call on Mr. Jones, and display such an intimate knowledge 
of his concerns, that this gentleman immediatelv found it 
necessary to take Messrs. Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, into 
his farther confidence. 

Couriers were therefore despatched immediately after the 
interview to Baron Beujamin, in London j to Baron Methu- 
saleh, at Frankfort ; to Baron Mordecai, at Naples ; and to 
Baron Shadrack, in Paris, — all distinguished members of the 
great firm of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob ; but what may be 
the nature of these communications of course remains a 
mystery, — a diplomatic mystery, and probably a very pro- 
fitable one to Lieutenant-General the Earl of Eiddlededee, 
and the eminent Jewish gentlemen in his confidence. 

Meanwhile Mr. J ones improves on acquaintance. He is 
a broad, square, powerful, handsome man, with a certain 
collected air and orderly manner of doing things, which is, 
I think, peculiarly English and imposing. He is not too 
clever. He has no prickly and uncomfortable ideas. All is 
smooth and rounded about him. He has a fair knowledge 
of most subjects, — brilliant thoughts upon none. I should 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



149 



think that he had never said anything memorable in his 
life, and would assuredly never do anything great ; but I 
am not quite sure that it is necessary to do great things, or 
that genius adds a whit more to a man's social position than 
it does to his happiness. Perhaps really it is a stumbling- 
block in the way of both. Mr. Jones has a fair average 
intellect, which is by far a better thing for him. He knows 
all the last current news of London and Paris. It requires 
no effort to follow his talk. It is all on the beaten track 
and smooth highway. He has an even, easy, pleasant way of 
telling an anecdote, which bespeaks an habitual diner-out. 
He converses upon political subjects in an agreeable and 
moderate manner : he is enabled to do so from the constant 
rumination of the leading articles in the Times ; but if you 
look for anything striking or original in his remarks, even 
on the subjects which interest him most, you will be of 
course disappointed. A man of the world could predict 
what Jones would say on any given topic ; and when he 
comes into the House of Commons, as is likely in the course 
of things, he will be looked upon as one of the most con 
sistent, solid, and safe men of his party. 

Look where you will, turn him in your mind how you 
please, you will find no fault in Mr. Jones, or his antece- 
dents. The more you ask about him, the more you will learn 
to his advantage. Everybody speaks so well of him that 
he can hardly be a remarkable man, but he is certainly a 
most respectable one. 

He does not belong to one of those august and quasi royal 
families, whose scions people are always criticizing, and 
hating, and envying, when they get any of the ] oaves and 
fishes. He is in no way connected with the greedy place- 
hunting gang of the Greys. He is the son, and the younger 
son, of a poor lord, whose race have made no figure in public 
life for several generations. As the Honourable "William 
Henry Jones, he belongs to the aristocracy, and cannot be 
sneered at as a vulgar dog, an upstart, a parvenu : but his 
mother was the daughter of a cotton-spinner, and his uncles 
are in trade. His father is one of those poor but estimable 
men connected with the Presbyterian church party, for 
whom everybody feels a sort of kindness and good-will. 



150 



PICTURES FROM 



There is a tradition that the seventh Viscount Brown mere 
behaved remarkably well towards Queen Caroline, and 
resisted the court faction with laudable though silent 
energy. 

There are those still living who remember that hearty, 
honest old nobleman, and are pleased to see his son doing 
well in life, — especially as it is rumoured he supports his 
sisters, and that he helps on his brothers at the bar and in 
the army. 

Indeed, there is not a more satisfactory instance of the 
certainty with which political honesty and resistance to 
unjust things is rewarded in England than the distinguished 
career of most of the men who took such a forward part 
against the king in this instance, and the Joneses were not 
i >rgotten in the good things which fell so thick and fast on 
Dennian, Scarlett, and Brougham. 

Everything goes well with Jones. He sails with the 
stream, and goes as merrily on to fortune and repute as can 
be. Pie has friends in crowds, and a ^ood word and a smile 
for every one of them. He is never abrupt and preoccupied 
with abstruse thoughts. He rouses no man's jealousy ; he 
is always affable, courteous, gentle, and well-bred. He 
admires orthodox things : he condemns those at which the 
respectable portion of mankind set their faces. He is the 
oracle of elderly ladies, and the guardian of several young 
ones. A father could hardly give more excellent worldly 
advice to his son, than " Model your opinions on those of 
J ones, and change or modify them at the respectable time 
he does so, if you would do well in life. Depend upon it, 
that Mr. Jones and the majority of the world are always 
agreed about everything. You cannot do wrong if you follow 
him. If you differ, therefore, keep your ideas a profound 
secret, and get rid of them for being utterly unserviceable as 
soon as possible. 

" Above all, beware of incurring the hostility of Jones, by 
thwarting his interests in any way, — he has a remarkably 
keen eye for them. He is a much more influential man 
than he seems ; and his wife has as good a position and as 
sharp a tongue as any lady in Eaton-square. If you cross 
them, Mr. and Mrs. Jones will damn you with an efficacy 



TKE BATTLE FIELDS. 



151 



and quietude of condemnation which will dispose of you at 
once without benefit of clergy. You will be looked upon as 
a person altogether without the pale of good society. You 
have the bad word of Jones, the quietest, best, most harm- 
less fellow in the world ; or Jones shrugs his shoulders, and 
declines to enter into the conversation when your name is 
mentioned,— that is enough. People do not desire to hear 
more. If they do, let them come next Sunday to one of the 
most careful and proper dinners in Belgravia. Jones is 
disengaged then, and woe betide the imprudent delinquent 
who has offended him, be the culprit who he may, — for 
Mr. Jones is Mrs. Grundy." 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Our consular friends again. The chief of the police. An interesting 
fact about British subjects in Turkey. A Greek gent. He strikes 
an officer. He runs away ; and finds an asylum in his consulate. 
He sheds tears. A British sea captain. His unobtrusive demeanour 
in a foreign country. Fine instance of energy in a British vice- 
consul. An agreeable colleague in office. 

I am aga or prefect of police in a town of "Wallachia. It is 
not a very good business as times go. I have no power to 
repress abuses, or act for the public good, and the safety of 
persons or property here. The foreign consuls completely 
cow and override me. It is my opinion that if a foreign 
subject were to go about robbing and murdering at pleasure, 
he would escape with impunity ; indeed, foreign subjects 
have done so, and have escaped. 

Some time since, I detected several deliberate attempts to 
set the town on fire ; many of our houses are of wood, they 
would catch easily. I forbade smoking in the street ; I 
found a person infringing this order ; I requested him to put 
out his cigar. He answered that I might forbid what I 
pleased to the Wallachians, but he was a Greek. I explained 
to him the reason of the order I had issued, and again de- 
manded his compliance. He was a more powerful man than 



152 



PICTURES FROM 



I am ; lie struck me, and ran away before the guard could 
come to my assistance. I am a man of high birth and family, 
and that blow was a cruel insult ; but I kept my temper. I 
did not draw my sword on him, as I might have done ; I did 
not order my men to shoot him down as a Russian, an Aus- 
trian, or a Prussian officer would have done. I followed him 
home, and placed guards at his door. Then I complained to 
Prince G , the Russian general in command. 

" If you have been struck in your uniform, and in discharge 
of your duty, by a Greek, seize the culprit without scruple. 
A man dare to lay his hand on a uniform !" cried the general, 
his very beard bristling with anger. 

Thus authorized, for I dared not have acted without, I 
returned to the house of the ruffian law-breaker. He had 
escaped through the window, and had gone of course to the 
house of the Greek consulate. I followed him, and found 
him crying and complaining frantically after the manner of 
his race. The Greek consul refused me admittance, and he 
quite sneered at any idea of giving up the culprit. So I 

returned again to the Prince G . " If the Greek 

consul refuses to give up a man who has dared to insult a 
uniform, take as many of my Cossacks as you please and 
force his house. If he still offers any resistance, bring him 
here, consul or no consul." 

At the sight of the Cossacks, the Greek consul permitted 
me to arrest the man who had struck me ; but still he could 
not be punished without permission of the Russians. Now 
it was the time of the stavrophores ; a Russian therefore 
would hardly punish a Greek for striking a Wallachian. It 
is needless to say the man escaped. 

Do you think the Austrians are any better 1 A few days 
since I was called suddenly out of the theatre by the report 
of a fire. I immediately desired one of my attendants to 
call my carriage, that I might hasten to the scene of disaster. 
My carriage has right of precedence over every other ; I do 
not often assert this right. It would be absurd on most 
occasions, but when engaged on pressing public business I 
am of course obliged to claim it. The way was blocked 
up by the fiacres of several Austrian officers. Beyond the 
theatre door was a sea of mud. and it rained in torrents. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



153 



" Way for the Aga's carriage !" shouted my men. The 
coachmen of these officers knew me very well, but not a man 
moved. They said they were Austrian subjects, and waiting 
for their masters. I expostulated, but I had to wade through 
the mud and rain nevertheless. I took the number of one 
of them who had been excessively insolent, and I complained 
to the Austrian authorities. It was only to earn another 
insult. Do you think that the British consuls behave better 1 
Disabuse your mind of so comfortable an error. Not long- 
ago, there came up the Danube a British sea-captain and 
his ship. He came for corn, and we were very glad to see 
him, for lately the corn trade has not been so brisk as it 
might be for our interests, perhaps for yours. We certainly 
desired to offer no impediment to his business. I merely 
mentioned to him that the planks leading from the wharf to 
his vessel, and over which the corn -porters would have to 
pass, were insecure. He took no heed of this observation, 
so I planted sentinels there, hoping to save human life. I 
failed ; my sentinels were contemptuously beaten aside ; and 
when the planks gave way, as I knew they would, seven 
corn-porters fell into the water, and three were drowned ! 
No effort was made to save them, for the British sea-captain 
and his crew were drunk. I forbade the captain of the 
port to allow the departure of that British sea-captain, and 
I hastened to your vice-consul with this serious complaint. 
Your vice-consul would have been, I dare say, a most excel- 
lent man if he had not had also a most inveterate habit of 
getting drunk. He was drunk three hundred and sixty-five 
days in the year, also some hours. He was of course drunk 
when I went to him. He told me that if I offered any 
hindrance to the captain's departure, I must offer him per- 
sonal violence. I reported these circumstances subsequently 
to his superiors ; I might as well have reported them to the 
wind. 

I acknowledge there is a rough show of reason in all this. 
It is true that the foreign consuls protect their subjects, 
right or wrong, and that they have often no manner of 
judgment or discretion in so doing. Yet still they cannot 
obtain justice for them. The conduct of our tribunals is 
infamous. Supposing any one of our public officers is honest, 



154 



PICTURES FROM 



lie is removable at pleasure, and his honesty will certainly 
tell against him with his superiors. For instance, I am neither 
more or less than the irresponsible captain of a band of 
organised banditti. Any Wallachian policeman will take 
money ; about eightpence of your money is quite sufficient to 
bribe him from his duty.- None but knaves will enter the 
service. How can it be otherwise ? A policeman's pay is fifty 
piastres a month, and he is required to find his uniform, 
which costs a hundred and fifty, out of it. He must steal, 
and he does steal. I have collected some curious statistics 
on this subject. I am enabled to say, from personal know- 
ledge, that the Wallachian police commit exactly twice the 
number of robberies that are committed by the entire 
remains of the population. 

Some time ago, one of my subordinates only stole no less 
than thirty-seven horses ; he stole them because he merely 
walked into other people's stables at night and took them 
out. At last I heard of his profitable employment, and I 
paid him a visit at his country house. There I found the 
horses. I asked him how he came by them ; he answered 
that they all had strayed into his lands. I then asked him 
why he had not complied with the law, and reported this 
circumstance to the police. He said he had done so. I 
asked to see the record. He replied that there was no 
record, for he had made the communication verbally to 
himself. So I dismissed him the service ; and not three 
months after, the same man was again forced upon me, 
actually as my second in command. He was the tool or the 
favourite of the minister for the time being. Dreading such 
a coadjutor, I then resigned myself; my resignation was not 
accepted, because nobody could be found to fill my place, for 
it was immediately after the evacuation of the Russians, and 
when the Turks were expected eager for retribution, and the 
squeezing of all who held prominent places. This man re- 
mained as my colleague for four months. At last, when his 
patron went out of power, I was enabled to get rid of him. 



THE BATTLE FIELD 3. 



155 



CHAPTER XXXIY. 

The author sets out ou a fashionable expedition. A sybil. Her shy- 
abode. Our laudable perseverance. A wise judgment of our jour- 
ney. The author compares himself and his friend to the saviours 
of Rome. A pig reproves us. A cripple. Her reproaches. Her 
loftiness. An indigestion of novels. The sybil's family. 

I WENT this morning with a man, ripe in years and high in 
office, to consult a fortune-teller. I was not without some 
curiosity on the subject, for I remembered well the startling 
story told by Mr. Lane about the ink mirror of the Egyptian 
conjurors. It seemed possible enough, therefore, that I 
might now witness some delusion remarkable. The large 
gipsy population of "Wallachia also prepared me for an 
interview with some mistress of a craft which that singular 
race appear to have practised for so many generations. My 
hopes were still farther strengthened by the rank and cha- 
racter of my companion, who was perfectly serious in the 
object of his visit ; and by the practice of consulting diviners 
which I knew to exist very generally here. 

It was certain that the sybil lived in a most out-of-the way 
place, and that the public faith must have been strong, or 
she would have had but few visitors. Our carriage was 
broken among the deep ruts and amazing mud of the road 
which led to her house ; but my friend was determined to 
go on, and I had certainly no inclination to baulk him, so we 
got out of our disabled vehicle, and marched through slosh 
and mire to the end of our journey. I could hardly get rid 
of an impression that we were a pair of geese for our pains ; 
and when we stood face to face, perspiring and bedraggled, 
before the sybil's door, I think my companion was very 
much of the same opinion. 

The fortune-teller's place of residence was a common- 
looking suburban cottage ; some ducks were quacking about 
a sort of farm-yard attached to it, and a pig looked wistfully 
— perhaps reprovingly, at us through some palings. Like 
most houses here, it had but one story, and the front room 
was devoted to the sale of some peculiarly uninviting bread, 



156 



PICTURES FROM 



and various other uneatable articles of an alimentary nature. 
This sickly little trade, however, was probably merely a pre- 
tence to satisfy the requirements of the police, — a race against 
which the conjurations of the most powerful magicians 
appear to avail nothing. The unmarketable stock in trade 
was presided over by a girl about seventeen years of age. 
Her appearance was weird and disagreeable ; her hair was 
untended ; she looked pinched, soured, and disagreeable ; 
and, with all, there was a certain air of loftiness and arro- 
gance about her, — I think it was produced by an indi- 
gestion of novels, and I should have perhaps smiled at it, 
but that the poor girl was a cripple ; and I think I have 
generally seen somebody very like her in the huts of most 
old people who pretended to a knowledge of the secrets of 
fate. 

This young lady reproved us sharply for the abruptness of 
our visit, and for some time declined to enter into any other 
conversation with us. She was soothed at last by the soft 
word gently spoken, which has effect on all of us alike. 
Then we asked to see the sybil. This our betouzled young 
friend assured us was entirely out of the question. She was 
so voluble on the subject, however, that we persisted, — for 
who says too much says nothing. 

In the midst of our conversation, a pale, delicate, elderly 
woman, who had been peering for some time through a hall- 
opened inner door, came in, and stood silently beside us. 

" Why will you not see the gentlemen, mother l " said my 
Mend's Albanian (the usual magnificent apparition of scarlet 
and gold embroidery) ; li they are great lords, and will pay 
you better than the prince." 

-OufI w sighed the pallid woman, wearily; r 'I am ill 
to-day. and see nobody. Let them begone elsewhere. I have 
a pain in my throat, and in my back : everywhere I 
am in pain ! Let them begone, now, and come another 
day/' 

" TTe will not keep you long, mother ; and have come 
very far to see you. I am sure you will not send us away,"' 
said my friend, softly. 

But the old lady still hesitated. There was something 
about her which made me fancy that she had often been 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



157 



made the victim of those roughish practical jokes of which 
the Wallachians are rather too fond, and that she wished to 
reconnoitre us well. Being at last, however, I suppose, 
satisfied as to the purity of our intentions, she sighed again, 
and pushed open the door of an inner room. We interpreted 
this of course as a tacit compliance with our request, and 
followed her„ 

The scene in which we now found ourselves was sad 
enough. Two of those pale, sodden, sickly, useless, stay-at- 
home men, usually found as invariably in such places as the 
crippled girl, were sitting curled up on the floor for warmth. 
The head of one was tied in a handkerchief, perhaps for the 
mumps. He was a son of the sybil — the other was her 
husband. The latter rocked a querulous child in his nerve- 
less arms. The child seemed a cripple also. 

We passed through this room into another (for the Walla- 
chian houses, though low, usually cover a large extent of 
ground), where two stout rusty girls were making some of 
the suspicious bread destined to figure in the front window. 
Then we entered a third inner room ; and this was the cell 
of the sybil. It was miserably furnished, with a stove, and 
a high, fluffy, narrow, impregnable bed • a few vulgar prints, 
mostly cut from newspapers, and two common wooden chairs, 
between which was placed a rickety table, with a ragged 
patchwork cover ; a child's invalid chair, wanting a wheel, 
stood bottom upwards in the corner ; on the mantelpiece 
were phials and boxes of ointment, the usual appliance of 
sickness. Poor woman ! it was plain she had a heavy bur- 
then to bear, and bore it bravely. No wonder she tried to 
lighten it by practising on the harmless follies of mankind. 

On one of the chairs the sybil sat wearily down ; my 
friend took his place on the other, and I stood with my back 
to the wall, smoking a cigar — a mere observer. 

The fortune-teller might have been forty ; she could 
hardly have been more, though the traces of much suffering 
and sorrow had worked quite a network of wrinkles on her 
face. She was dressed in a plain printed cotton gown, and 
had a black handkerchief tied round her head. In her ears 
were silver ear-rings. She must have been handsome once, 
and of an education and intellect superior to her station. 



158 



PICTURES FROM 



Her face now wore a mild, wearied, subdued expression : and 
if, as I thought, she struggled with a smile as she sat down, 
it was so lost in the lines about her mouth, that it required 
a keen observer to detect it. 

She began by asking my companion the nature of the 
business about which he" came to consult her, and he told her 
in a few words. She nodded intelligence, and then offered 
him a singularly dirty pack of cards to cut. When he had 
cut them, she laid them out in four rows before her ; in each 
row were eleven cards. 

They were picture-cards ; the person who consulted them 
being represented by the king of hearts — a blooming young 
man in a flower-garden. Old men in their dotage ; scowling 
faces behind grinning masks ; houses on fire ; thieves break- 
ing into bed-rooms by night, and young priests shaven and 
shorn, offer a considerable margin for prediction. Every 
card had some symbol painted on it, and lest there should 
be any mistake, the explanation was written in Wallachian, 
German, English, and French, beneath. As the secrets of 
persons who go to fortune-tellers are very much of the same 
nature, it was easy enough to say probable things when 
the key-note of a client's mind was once given ; so that her 
reputation for startling folk was perhaps well founded 
enough. 

It is certain that she surprised my friend. I think even 
once or twice that she alarmed him. He said she told him 
strange truths, which she could have no means of knowing. 
When she had read all the cards before her, she gathered 
them up, and shuffled them again with much gravity. On 
the second occasion she laid them down around her in a 
semicircle ; and on the third, after they had been again 
shuffled and cut, she placed them in the form of a 
cross. 

This ended the proceedings for my friend. Then she 
shuffled the cards for me. I told her I came to consult her 
about a journey, — I said nothing more ; but I am bound to 
say, she told me very likely things about the future, and 
more strange ones still about the past. If the former come 
to pass, as truly as the latter have been, I should see their 
accomplishment with singular feelings enough. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



159 



When my fortune had been told also, we went away, after 
having paid a ducat for our knowledge. " And so my 
journey will be prosperous, mother ?" said I. 

" If it please God," replied the woman, humbly. 
The reply struck me ; your fortune-teller in England is 
usually a blasphemous old witch, all curses and horrors. 
This one seemed as modest and respectful as Mrs. Simple, 
who lives in an almshouse ; and, indeed, it is very notable 
how respectably foreigners will often follow avocations which 
among us are given over wholly to the infamous. 



CHAPTER XXXY. 

The Austrian army of occupation. A social war. Energetic conduct 
of a Wallachian lady. Ladylike hostilities. Christmas time. 
Austrian officers. Their way of life. A mild refreshment. Omer 
Pasha. His prospects in life. The hospodar. The luxury of sheets 
unknown till required by the Austrians. Conciliatory conduct of 
the Bussians. Imprudence of the Austrians. Agreeable state of 
affairs in the Principalities. 

I meet some Austrian officers every morning at the hotel 
where I breakfast ; but I meet them nowhere else, except 
at the great crush balls of some of the Boyars. The rest 
of the Wallachians will positively have nothing to do with 
them. I saw one of the first ladies in the land, the other 
day, indignantly toss into the fire two cards which had been 
left at her house by Austrians. Nay, wonder of wonders, 
the Wallachian ladies give up waltzing rather than dance 
with them. The position of gentlemen against whom the 
ladies take such an active part as this, may be fancied better 
than told ; and the fact is, that Bucarest is the seat of a 
sort of social war just now. 

Yet a kindlier set of pleasant gentlemen than those I 
meet at breakfast every morning never wore a sword. It is 
quite refreshing to witness their close brotherhood among 
each other. Their inexhaustible good-nature — their harm- 
less wit, and healthy efforts to be jolly under difficulties. 



160 



PICTURES FROM 



It is Christmas time, and now every morning the talk 
turns on gifts received by one or other of them from the 
homeland, where they have not been forgotten. Their con- 
versation on such subjects is as fresh and delightful as that 
of so many schoolboys. I like to hear that pleasant-tem- 
pered old colonel bragging of his little daughter's new-year's 
gifts (which, he adds, with a smile and moist eyes, are such 
a dear bargain) ; I like to see the major with the stentorian 
voice stealthily pocketing his dessert for the grubby little 
child at his lodgings. The broad Vienna dialect which is 
spoken or affected by nearly all the Austrian nobles, and 
their joyous hearty laughter, quite set me up for the day to 
witness. 

The waiters of the hotel, the only people among the 
natives who enjoy their intimacy beside myself, tell me that 
these rough soldiers lead the life of so many monks. They 
are modest in their diet and potations ; they make no noise ; 
they attend diligently to their duties, and go to bed at nine 
or ten o'clock, after, may be, the mild refreshment of a game 
at dominoes. One or two, indeed, play the piano, or the 
beautiful zittern, and small parties collect in their rooms to 
hear them ; but there is no shouting or hallooing among 
them, and a thick cloud of cigar-smoke steaming out of 
every crack and chink in the cjoor is all that testifies to the 
whereabouts of their inoffensive gatherings. 

Yet, as I have written, the people do not like them. It 
is said they are haughty and overbearing \ but I would 
remind my amiable friends, the Wallachians, that most 
folk become haughty and overbearing if treated with open 
dislike and contempt. I could say a good deal on this sub- 
ject, and preach quite a sermon about it, after my fashion ; 
but the truth is, it is by no means the real question at 
issue. 

When the Russians quitted the country, there arose in 
men's hearts an earnest, almost passionate hope, that the 
whole rotten and oppressive system of their government 
would go with them. As time passed on, this hope grew 
almost into certainty among the sanguine ; and their disap- 
pointment was proportionally bitter. 

On the arrival of Omer Pasha, they had flocked with 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



161 



devoted loyalty to the quarters of the Turkish general. The 
great Boyars offered to raise an army of thirty thousand men 
to swell the ranks of the enemies of Russia, and demanded 
only to be led to battle. 

Better or more pliable people never delivered themselves 
over to the guidance of a statesman. Their misfortune 
however was, that Omer Pasha is not a statesman. He is 
merely a brave and able soldier ; and report adds, he had a 
rooted dislike to any radical change in the government of 
the country, inasmuch as he himself desired to be made 
hospodar. I do not state this fact on my own responsibility, 
I merely give it as a generally received report which has 
gained currency. 

The address of the Wallachians was therefore rejected. 
Their indignant outcries against all things Russian, as soon 
as they were free to speak, were heard coldly, perhaps doubt- 
ingly ; their offer of military service was declined. A gen- 
tleman who had three times revolutionized the country in 
favour of the Russians was the first person who received 
the favours of the Porte ; and a prince, who had been cer- 
tainly guilty of disobedience, if not of treason, whose ante- 
cedents were peculiarly Russian, and who represented some 
of the very worst abuses of a government they had so 
ardently hoped at an end for ever, returned upon Austrian 
bayonets. Even the former ministers, who had worked the 
will of Russia with such complacent diligence, were restored 
to their posts, and the old system of things was entirely 
re-established. 

Now, it is said that the prince contracted engagements in 
Aiistria of the most unfortunate kind ; and when the impe- 
rial troops arrived in the country, the Wallachians were only 
more hurt than astonished at their free-and-easy demeanour, 
and the amazing extent of their pretensions. Humble 
people, who slept on the floor in their own houses, were 
required to furnish sheets and bedding, of which they did 
not even know the use, to Austrian officers, who showed a 
most unhappy acquaintance with the use of the stick as 
applied to the shoulders of contumacious peoj^le. Hence 
arose scenes of violence and disorder. It was currently 
reported in the country, that in similar brawls, no less than 

LI 



162 



PICTURES FRCQI 



sixty persons had been, slain : and complaint was useless. If 
any man raised his voice against the demands of the army 
of occupation, the Austrian officers raised their eyebrows 
in the most unfeigned surprise, and asked all men to take 
note of their moderation, and how very little they required 
of the good things which had been promised them. 

Then came a bitter feud. The Wallachians, frantic at the 
thought that they had only passed from under the iron 
despotism of Russia to be crushed by the equally stern rule 
of the Kaiser, determined to protest in time, that all might 
witness the honesty and determination of their resistance. 

On the other hand, the Austrians did not scruple to con- 
ceal the disgust to which these proceedings gave rise on their 
part. While they believed they had been conferring a 
favour, their mere presence was looked upon as a curse, and 
they very naturally grew angry. 

Now, I have been credibly informed, that such strict dis- 
cipline was observed among the Russian troops, that if a 
detachment of them marching to quarters met a common 
hackney-coach, they immediately opened their ranks and 
made way for it. If they worried the people by exactions, 
they took care to do so through the native authorities, and, 
as far as they themselves were concerned, their conduct was 
irreproachable. Now the Austrians have no such delicacy. 
They are thunderstricken at finding themselves in such an 
unfriendly country ; and when they want anything, they 
grasp at it with scant courtesy, fearing that it would other- 
wise be denied ; and thus men, almost proverbial for good- 
nature, find themselves shunned as violent tyrants — I am 
afraid sometimes not without a show of reason. The end 
of it is, that the feeling against Austria in the Danubian 
Principalities is as strong as in Hungary and Italy ; it can 
hardly be stronger. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 163 



CHAPTER XXXYI. 

The praise of merriment. The author delicately insinuates that he is 
personally of a happy disposition. He points out the true reason 
ot Lord Fiddlededee's popularity at the Foreign Office. A popular 
delusion. The author hints at the dreariness of philosophical 
conversazioni. He becomes egotistical, and expresses some dan- 
gerous opinions on fashionable apparel. He finally, however, pro- 
fesses his faith in the entertainments of the aristocracy, and shows 
the advantages to be derived from them. He condemns the pur- 
suits of literature, but concludes the chapter with magnanimous 
praise of "Gil Bias" and " Don Quixote." 

Boys only are outwardly grave, men are not ; or clever men 
are seldom so. They leave dolefulness and pomposity to Sir 
Hector Stubble ; to their doctors, whose trade it is ; and to 
fiddlers, to whom it is a pride, serving, as they think, to show 
an attentive world that they are not wholly engrossed by the 
frolics of their office. But you and I know very well, my 
sensible reader, that the world does not care one button 
about us, and does not attend to us at all, unless we can 
amuse it. Each individual is far too much taken up with 
pleasing thoughts of himself to think of other people, or 
their airs and graces. In short, then, if we are merry, we shall 
be welcome, as Lord Fiddlededee at the Foreign Office ; if 
sad, our friends will have a knack of being out when we call. 
Beauty will summon round her a triple belt of admiring 
defenders to keep off a bore when we come within hail ; and 
even wisdom itself will often look another way, too wise 
to be wisdom always. "No man need make absolutely a 
buffoon of himself, however, after all, like poor old Fiddle- 
dedee ; but this I will maintain, that all who like good 
dinners must learn to eat them merrily, or at their own 
expense, which is both a costly and dreary look-out. 

It is a popular delusion, that the qualities which go to 
make an amusing man can hardly make a great one, — that 
we must choose between virtue and pleasure. I will not 
hear a word of such nonsense. The really ablest men I have 
ever met with have been the most delightful in society. I 
take it, no man was ever truly great who made a fuss about 

m 2 



164 



PICTURES FROM 



it ; and experience is very apt to smell humbug when it 
sees solemnity. Besides, it is a fraud. Every man, woman, 
or child have their own troubles, and quite enough of them. 
It is a wearisome and contemptible weakness to worry them 
about ours. Let us keep our gloom for lonely places, for 
fishing -excursions, and philosophical eonverscusioni : the 
world wants none of it. More really sound, sensible things 
can be doue by a pleasant vivacious fellow, who keeps his 
bodily and mental aches at arm's length, and takes his fair 
allowance of wine and jollity, than by all the dullards who 
ever boggled over a conjunction, or croaked at a headache. 
All this means to say, that we intend to put these theories 
into practice, and go straightway to take a dancing-lesson ; 
for here comes the pleasant carnival, with light step and 
laughing eyes. Some amiable critic was polite enough to 
say of a certain litterateur (I hope it was not me), that he 
was apt to give mere personal opinions as philosophical views 
of life. All philosophy, however, is more or less mere personal 
opinion ; and I doubt vastly if any two single gentlemen or 
ladies under the sun have the same set of ideas on any given 
subject. Now I ask no one to pin his faith to my creed. 
He may do precisely as he pleases, and we shall, I trust, be 
the best friends possible in either case ; and so these flimsy 
pages shall be a transcript of my thoughts, as much as Locke's 
and Bacon's worthier writings were. I shall not win so 
many readers ; but that, like the stumbling of a sorry hack, 
is my misfortune, not my fault. Every poet cannot have a 
Pegasus, nor all lips drink at the fountain of wisdom. 

Let me ramble on, then, and put on my easy garments in 
my own way. If they do not fit so well as a Paget's or a 
D'Orsay's, perhaps they are more comfortable, and my philo- 
sophy is, not at least to add stays and tight boots to the 
inevitable inconveniences of the small banker's account aud 
long doctor's bill we must most of us put up with. 

I love and respect a man, woman, or child, who has a 
hearty, honest liking of running abroad to other people's 
houses. I believe it to be as profitable as pleasant. Hark 
to the light wisdom and sparkling wit of yon gentleman and 
lady who are chatting through their waltz there. Neither 
of theui could be persuaded to open a book on any account* 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



165 



Why should they learn to squint, in order to find out the 
thoughts of some troublesome elderly person who would 
probably not be received in good society 1 And yet the last 
news of the electric telegraph is stale to them, and they 
could either of them talk more agreeable good sense about 
Shakspeare and the musical glasses, than Mr. Knight and 
Lord Westmoreland put together. 

Some dunce once said that there was no royal road to 
learning, and the dull thought has been echoed often. But it 
is a greater fallacy even than most dull thoughts are, and all 
are fallacies ; for it is a fallacy even to think dully. The 
royal road to learning is as broad and straight as the long 
walk from the statue of George the Something to Windsor 
Castle, and as pleasant. It is visiting. 

Therefore, if the judicious reader desire to be really well 
informed, he will positively have nothing whatever to do 
with books and libraries, or bookish people. They are all 
more or less mere cracked enthusiasts, who twist most things 
merely their own way, and it is not the right one. They 
have a mental squint, in short, as well as a bodily one, and 
they are certain to fall foul on all who see straight and 
healthily. So if you truly desire to be a light among your 
generation, buy a remarkably neat brougham, or the carriage 
which may happen to be the very last delight of fashion. 
Cultivate an affectionate intimacy with your tailor, who 
should be a grave, judicious, long-established man, living 
anywhere within three minutes' drive of St. James's-street, the 
Rue de la Paix, or the Herrn Gasse in Vienna. Carry on a 
delicate flirtation with an amiable lady who devotes her in- 
telligent leisure to the study of shirt-fronts. Call your glove- 
maker (of course after a proper introduction) by her Christian 
name ; and do not forget to give a finger to Mr. Gradelle in 
the privacy of your own apartment, when he comes to inform 
you of the last exquisite fashion in boots. Your hat should 
be regulated on the most careful study of side effects, and 
you may employ the delicious half-hour between sleeping and 
waking of a morning, in gently reflecting on the shape and 
colour of your next waistcoat. 

Having thus improved your mind, and made your appear- 
ance acceptable at " any court in Europe," as the historians 



1GG 



PICTURES FROM 



say, just hand your visiting list for the day to the best 
coachman you can possibly find, and away. 

Away, elk-like, and feast on the brains of other people. 
Drop in on personages who are likely to know most of the 
popular subject. It chances so often that you will acquire 
a wonderful fund of • information on the utmost variety of 
things, and with the least possible trouble. 

Listen agreeably to people who know they are coming out 
strong, perhaps giving you, in a few pregnant sentences, the 
whole results of a life's ardent study and sobered experience. 
They will have no end of good-feeling for you in return, and 
you will be mentioned everywhere as the most able and pro- 
mising of good fellows. An ambassador will give you his 
summary of events, distilled from many sources : one of 
your own ministry will give you a glimpse of what is likely 
soon to become the national feeling about them ; for it is a 
mistake to suppose public opinion guides the Government. 
There are one or two men in England — Lord Palmerston for 
instance — in whom the people have such implicit faith, that 
he is as absolute over coteries and newspapers, as the Emperor 
of Russia in Siberia. Who would not sooner talk to so 
delightful a host, than finger a dusty folio, or a damp ill- 
smelliDg pamphlet ? When you have gone through your 
morning's course of study, warm up your facts, and the very 
cream of your good-humoured personal anecdotes, and re- 
produce the same at dinner. Take my word for it, you will 
soon be looked upon as one of the most charming and prac- 
tical gentlemen of your age and time. Dance with the girls, 
ride with the boys, and dine judiciously with the seniors. 
Such is the art of life. Learn to be new, if you can, wherever 
you go ; to carry the perfume of far-away things about you 
— things which are caviare to the multitude. Know the 
precise colour of the reigning beauty's eyes, the singular ad- 
ventures of Lord Epicure's cook, whose father was a French 
marquis of the ancien 'regime. Be short, pointed, epigramma- 
tical, and. above all harmless, in your reflections on these im- 
portant subjects — tread on nobody's toes. Forget that Mr. de 
Papillon has a wife at Seville, and that Lord Allworthie's 
eldest son had a disagreeable passage in his biography last 
year at Florence. Come into a room like the stvmmer, all 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



167 



smiles and good-nature, and you will find by far the most 
convenient chair in it perfectly at your service, as long as 
you like to fill it. You need not ask for anything ; it is the 
mere vulgar resource of persons of the worst taste. Only 
make yourself acceptable, and pleasantry will make you so 
more than every other advantage in the world ; you will then 
find that other people will begin to think about you, and you 
will hardly know what to do with the perfect shower of pro- 
fitable things which will descend on you. Old Coupon will 
tell you what to do with that lonely little £1,000, and Sir 
Charles Grandison will think you are precisely the person of 
all others to be a sinecure stick-in-waiting. 

I dwell upon these innocent little hints, because, if we 
were eternal upon earth, we could hardly look more sharply 
after the main chance than we do, — every one of us, from 
the judge and the bishop at sixty-five, to Miss Simplicity 
and Mr. Dactyl, who have got such shrewd ideas about set- 
tlements at nineteen and twenty-one. 

I have taken my dancing -lesson, and I am obliged to it 
for the thoughts it has suggested, chiefly because they are 
worth so much a sheet, which is my part of the business, and 
then because I think there is a sharp spice of good sense in 
them, which, gentle reader, is yours. 

I have been whirling links and rechts with tolerable 
agility, and with two most amiable young dancing ladies, 
daughters of the ballet-master. He is a Yiennese, with that 
simple shrewdness which, though an apparent contradiction 
of terms, is the only expression I can find to describe what 
has always seemed to me the especial characteristic of his 
townsfolk. 

"Ah, Gott !" says his wife, a stout solid Dirndl of forty, 
with an eye as merry as Mrs. Quickly' s ; " ah, Gott ! there 
is not much money to be made here, for the Boyards are not 
so rich as our counts ; but they are good people." 

" You see," chimes in her husband, " there is money to be 
got here ; but then we spend it." 

"And more !" says the prettiest of the daughters, arch]y. 

" Our way of life," says the mother proudly. 

" And we must keep up appearances," adds the dancing- 
master. 



168 



PICTURES FROM 



I vow and declare I think people are the same all over 
the world, and the peculiarities of class will be found alike 
in Otaheite and at Versailles. Hence the deathless and uni- 
versal fame of those immortal painters of manners who have 
followed nature only — Gil Bias and Don Quixote give de- 
light from one end of the world to the other. 

Upon the whole, as I button my great coat, and step into my 
carriage with the smart little horses, I think I am the better 
for my dancing-lesson in more ways than one ; and, con- 
sidering that a great lady, with an unpronounceable name 
and bewitching eyes, has actually challenged me to a cotillon 
six hours hence, it was most decidedly necessary. 

Doumbovitza ape doultche, 
Tchine" bea nou ce mai doutche. 
Doumbovitza Water sweet, 
Who drinks of thee hath fettered feet. 
Ah ! blame me not, lady, if silent and darkling, 
I sit apart gloomy with thoughts full ot pain ; 
I have drunk of the magical water whose sparkling 
Twirls round the lost heart like a diamond chain. 
'Tis said that the elf-king once loved a sweet faery, 

Who was not, alas ! his legitimate queen ; 
But her eyes were so witching, her step was so airy, 

That so fair a spirit had never been seen. 
For a rival what heart of a woman will soften, 

In similar cases wherever you see ; 
And the queen growing jealous as ladies will often, 
Decreed that this bright spirit banished should be. 

The exile roamed sadly o'er sea and o'er mountain, 

But in vain sought a land like the land she had known ; 

Till dressing one noon-day beside a cool fountain, 
A sprite of the stream, lady, told of your own. 

On the banks of the sweet Doumbovitza is surely, 
A fairy land beauteous as your one above ; 

But, alas ! it is lonely, and fairies, though purely 
Ethereal beings, can't live without love. 

So the exile wove charms o'er the swift-flowing river, 
And spell-bound each rover that drank of its stream ; 

The Dacian, the Roman, the Goth, and the Sclave there, 
Confessed the sweet magic, and lingered to dream. 

I really can't tell you which hero she married, 
Or whether she wedded with each in his prime ; 

But I know that her loveliest daughters have carried 
The might of her spells down to our own time. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



1G9 



No stranger who wanders by those haunted waters 
Can depart without leaving his heart as a gage ; 

And as sprites are immortal, which of you the daughters, 
And which the first fairy, 'twould puzzle a sage. 

Then blame me not, lady, if silent and darkling, 
I sit apart gloomy with thoughts full of pain ; 

I have drunk of the magical water whose sparkling 
Twirls round the lost heart like a diamond chain. 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

The author takes proper example of Field-Marshal Lord Eaglan, and 
entertains his public with some exact and interesting observations 
on the weather. A Scotch servant. A British consul. His re- 
markable want of arrogance. His imprudent politeness to his 
countrymen. An hotel dinner. Mild German jokes. An Austrian 
gentleman. Thoughts after dinner and a glass of punch. 

It is a fine clear afternoon in January, some quarter of 
an hour perhaps before sunset. The shadows lengthen 
over the pretty gardens round the lordly houses of the 
Boyards ; the bare wintry trees are just growing indistinct 
and still, as though falling to sleep with the rest of nature. 
The light twigs on the top tremble for a moment now and 
then, to the kiss of some roving wind, and quiver like the 
last flicker of a ]amp before it goes out. A purple gauze 
begins to fall over the extreme verge of the horizon, and 
the sun veils his blushing face behind it, as though troubled 
with the wild scenes he has looked on through the day. I 
can smell the healthy perfume of the earth as it is borne 
along to me by faint zephyrs, which seem to expire as they 
touch my cheek. The birds are winging their way home to 
roost, each after its kind, and then, after chattering their 
blithe scandals among the boughs, drop off to slumber one 
by one, and the stars steal out timidly. 

I pass through the doors of our charge-d' affaires every day 
about the same hour, and Joe knows me well. His kindly 
Scotch face, however, does not light up to-day, as usual when 
he sees me. Joe is standing in the door-way smoking a 



170 



PICTURES FROM 



cigar with pensive dignity, which means, I know, that his 
master is out. 

" So, no dinner to-day, Joe ?" 

" Na, sir, Mr. Colquhoun is gone to dine with the French 
consul. He has been at home all day sitting writing by 
our sick gentleman, and now he has just gone out ; but here 
is a letter for you that came by the post." 

And Joe smiles from ear to ear with native good-nature, 
and partly, I think, from his having lived so long with a 
master who is positively the cream of human goodness, — 
an Englishman who is an official without being a prig ; 
efficient without arrogance, — hospitable without ostentation ; 
who is that vara avis in terris, a thoroughly valuable and 
proper public servant abroad. 

Joe can divine this very likely, as we stand opposite each 
other, and he takes a cigar from my offered case ; lor he is a 
retainer of the old school, and he would look upon me as a 
strange incomprehensible person, if he did not read in my 
eyes that " I loved the Colquhoun." 

" So the end of it is, Joe, I shall have no dinner?" 

" Get a chop ready for you in five minutes," says Joe, 
briskly ; and he shouts to the cook. He knows very 
well that master has not taken the key of the larder with 
him. 

But this will never do ; and after we have laughed and 
chatted a little, I take myself off with, I do believe, the 
flavour of the good man's household lingering about me in 
smiles and pleasant thoughts. 

I want a dinner ; but this will not occasion me the diffi- 
culty it would have done at cheerless Constantinople. It 
need not trouble my mind in any way. There are at least 
half a dozen houses where I might drop in, and my coming 
would make a little festival, so well received are strangers 
here; but I am not quite presentable. I am merely fit 
for the pleasant gossiping, anecdotal, pipe-and-toddy sort 
of banquet I have been enjoying every day for this 
month past, so I think I shall take a vagrant dinner at 
an inn. 

Nothing can be easier. The Austrians have brought 
their manners and customs with them. I sometimes svi^h 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



171 



the first were as gay and delightful as the last. There are 
at least a score of hotels where I shall find all sorts of 
German luxuries, sausages and sauerkraut, goose liver stewed 
with rice, garnished beef with schnitlauch sauce, schweines- 
carre, and more nice things than I can number, ready at 
any time I choose to ask for them. 

Let me step, then, into the brisk little carriage which has 
been following me about, and go to the tchesmejiou at once. 
I am shown into a lofty and spacious room by the bowing 
host and his waiters. They are so glad to see me, that I 
am afraid they have not had much to do to-day. There is a 
nervous alacrity, too, about the waiters, which speaks of 
trinkgelds few and far between. 

My simple dinner is soon ordered, and while it is pre- 
j3aring, let me send for a few back numbers of the Fliegende 
Blatter (a sort of German Punch, and the only German 
paper just now worth reading). I have taken out my 
tablets and am looking for jokes, pencil in hand. A gentle- 
man from Austria who has observed this movement promptly 
takes his departure, but I am not alarmed. Lord Fiddle- 
dedee does not yet reign over me at Bucarest ; and I shall 
not sleep to-night in gaol, be the report of the gentleman 
from Austria to his police-office what it may. 

The jokes of the Fliegende Blatter are mild, very mild. 
Here is one : a patient is consulting a doctor, both are 
drawn (quite impossibly ugly) as ugly as the personages of 
Gillray or Seymour. Loq. : — 

Patient. — "I have got a bump on my head. It is not 
quite so large as a florin, not quite, but nearly so." 

Doctor (impatient). — " Say as large as a one-and-eightpenny 
piece " (ein acht und vierziger). This appears to be looked 
upon as a joke in Germany. 

The next is also smallish, though not quite so small. It 
is entitled " Conjugal Felicity." An unreasonable bride- 
groom addrecses his lovely wife on tie first clay after their 
marriage : — 

U. B. — " How is it, my dear, that I do not see thee busy 
in the kitchen ?" 

L. W. — " Nay, my beloved, I stay by thee." 

Second day. — Lovely wife seeing her husband coming 



172 



PICTURES FROM 



home, rushes to the kitchen, and calls out, in a hurried 
voice — " Veggv ! Peggy ! make haste with the soap for me 
to wash the salad ! 55 — The husband collapses. 

The third joke is, however, positively enchanting, from its 
innocent naivete and German flavour. A child is clinging 
to his grandfathers neck, and looking at him with eyes 
deliciously curious, " Grandpapa," he wonders reasonably, 
" how is it that you are so — so old, and have got no teeth 

yet r 

But my dinner is ready, and smoking in the waiter's 
hands : let me put aside my paper and fall to. I know it is 
an Hungarian wine which they have brought me for French, 
and I see that they have roasted a whole partridge for me 
instead of bringing a quarter warmed up, as they might have 
done. But the wine is good, and the partridge is served 
with a zeal of attention only Britons get. 

Let us be good-natured about such things, then, for we 
are a weary and troublesome race. There is a sort of tacit 
pact also — M If I do not look at the trouble, you must not 
look at the bill." All this we should understand, and for 
my part, I own that I was touched at the host's anxiety to 
please, at the warmth of the plates, and the airing of the 
Hungarian wine to give it a claret flavour \ also at the low 
bows when I went in and out. 

You and I would not certainly stoop to deceive a traveller, 
but then we would have nothing whatever to do with him ; 
so we should not expect people to be much above their craft. 
These poor folk have not received the training we have ; the 
dandling and cradling into honour. They have not our 
merciful lack of temptation to petty evil. I am thankful for 
their civility, therefore, and fully content to take other things 
without too much question. 

I am a poor man, a very poor man; my flesh creeps with 
dismay sometimes when I think how poor I am ; but I give 
the nervous waiter a zwcmsdger, twice as much as he would 
get from a native, and I think the money was well spent. 

I noticed something of woman's care about the hotel too. 
The newspapers were carefully bound ; where there had 
been a rent, it was thriftily mended; and I bowed my head 
mentally before a worth which was perhaps superior enough 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



173 



to mine — a worth of struggles and want, borne uncom- 
plainingly, and working hope and patient tenderness. 

Thus I was glad that I had lost my evening, and fell into 
a quiet state of thought over my punch and pipe ; so I saw 
visions as the embers faded in the open grate, and dreamed a 
pleasant waking dream ! 

The waiter roused me by a cough that I understood as a 
modest request for further orders. Therefore, as I had none 
to give, I got up and went my way. 

The weather has changed, as winter weather will ; and 
when I get home, the heavy snow-flakes beat against my 
windows, and the wind wails pitifully. 

I dare say it is very cold without, and I know that the 
snow stretches for many a mile away over the endless plains 
beyond the town ; and that the earth is frost-bound. I 
know that the wintry sleet beats pitilessly in the face of the 
traveller ; and that the ominous tread of a lawless soldiery 
is heard on the wintry sod by mothers who are cowering 
beside empty hearths, and rocking their babes to sleep lest 
they wail for bread ! I know that the wolf is prowling 
about lonely villages ; and that the wild boar and the jackal 
glare famished and terrible from their lairs by night ; that 
there are fearful beds of sickness, where no help can come, 
and dark legends told by trembling lips in the wild hamlets 
of the Steppes. 

" Lord have mercy upon me, a sinner : for I am unworthy 
of thy manifold blessings." There is a bright fire sparkling 
to welcome me home, a bowing servant, and a warm dressing- 
gown. The man will ask my commands in a half-whisper, 
then he will leave me alone, but in comfort. 

My room is well closed in by double windows to keep out 
the chilly tempest ; and all around is in orderly array ; the 
blotting-paper neatly laid, the inkstand polished, and the 
candles trimmed. While my servant retires to rest, there- 
fore, it is but right that I should watch and think ; but it is 
late, and I see he turns a sort of wondering glance towards 
me, as he sees me sit down and begin to write. Perhaps he 
has a glimmer in his mind of the great truth that each of us 
has his appointed task. Perhaps he despises me as a useless 
trifler, perhaps he envies, perhaps he is merely puzzled. 



174 



PICTURES FROM 



It is a fearful thing to be very poor in all countries, but 
in some it is terrible indeed ! 

It signifies almost every species of insult, degradation, and 
misery. The upper classes are altogether in an unfair posi- 
tion : they are born possessors of the land and all that in it 
is : they may rob, strike, or wrong an inferior with equal 
impunity. There is no justice for the poor, no compassion : 
they are slaves and helots : they have been shamed and 
beaten till they are perhaps little above the level of beasts of 
burthen ; and so they are treated. Those who know them 
best will tell you with the most refreshing coolness that 
nothing is to be done with them, save stick in hand ! Let 
me say one word for a gentler philosophy before I quench 
my light, and say a gratetul prayer, and sleep. 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

A French Brummel. The pleasantest fellow in the world. A great 
commander of a dinner. A king of the Boulevards. The author 
discovers that a ruined gentleman is not necessarily a rogue. Dan- 
gerous but heraldic sentiment of the Nugeats. Energetic proceeding 
of three widow ladies. Mademoiselle Fifi.ne, of the Opera Comique, 
defended the prisoner. M. de Langueamere shows ungentlemanly 
liberality to a friend in reduced circumstances. Prudent investment 
of a quiet gentleman. The author hints that tradesmen are aristo- 
cratically considered as lawful game to hunt and harry. The 
commercial classes insolently study Lavater in self-defence. The 
ruined dandy becomes an impromptu colonel in the Turkish service. 

" C'est un homme un peu tare/' said my companion, with 
a slight elevation of the eyebrows ; " but there is no reason 
why we should refuse to dine with him ; he is great at 
dining, and the pleasantest fellow in the world." 

In truth, he was one of those brilliant and kind-hearted 
adventurers to be met with in all out-of-the-way places. 
They are altogether a different race from the officers in the 
service of the King of Candy. The latter are generally men 
with a good deal of starch and practical purpose about them. 
Enthusiasts, if you will ; but active and energetic, with no 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



175 



taint of the idler ; while the pleasantest fellow in the world 
is always a joyous saunterer through life, who never thought 
anything really worth doing steadily, or any pursuit worth 
following long but pleasure. He has wit to his fingers' ends, 
and grace peculiarly his own ; something noble, gentle, frank, 
and loyal about him ; an unspeakable charm of manner, an 
unstudied elegance in all he does ; the stamp of a thorough 
man of the world of the best kind. If he had £50.000 a 
year he would be as celebrated as Hertford ; a sanctifying 
love would have made him a Mildmay, or a D'Orsay. 

As it is, he is a splendid ruin ; and I own that my heart 
aches to think about him, — to know that his frank smile is 
so often beaming in places where it were better away ; that 
his clear rich voice is too friendly by half when it ought not 
to be ; and that his warm cordial hand is a great deal too 
much given to touching things which are not quite clean. 

I know him as if we had been schoolboys together ; for I 
have seen him in many cities, and always the same, though 
under different names and circumstances : so I follow him 
up the broad flight of the hotel stairs with a heavier and 
more thoughtful step than my companion, who is whistling 
an opera air, and rejoicing that we have stumbled on such 
an excellent chance of a merry dinner. 

Alfred de Yerville started in life with every advantage 
under the sun. He bore one of the stateliest names in 
France ; he possessed about twenty thousand francs a year, 
— a fair fortune for a young Frenchman, — and was one of the 
handsomest men in Paris. Opposition salons flew open to 
receive the courtly boy. He became a member of the Jockey 
Club, the Union, and the Club des Moutardes. He was 
hand in glove with the gay good princes of the house of 
Orleans ; yet welcome as daylight in the hotels of De Blacas 
and De Pastoret. 

He might have become anything : he might have passed 
from the flower of the peas into a great statesman, or a 
successful soldier. But " Cui bono ] " said the exquisite. The 
delightful coteries of Paris had too many charms for him. He 
became merely a king of the Boulevards, — a dictator of the 
Champs Elysees. Irresolution and indifference had been his 
curse ; or sometimes, what was worse, a kind of epicurean far- 



176 



PICTURES FROM 



sightedness, which undervalues results, and which is common 
enough among the fine but enervated intellects of our time. 

We had better not estimate consequences too nearly, if we 
wish to act either wisely or well ; and it is a very question- 
able gift to be too far-sighted. Prudence even to caution, 
caution even to hesitation, in the affairs of others may be 
well, if we would escape their reproaches ; but we must 
perform our own parts boldly, if we desire to be either useful 
or renowned. A man who risks nothing, will never rise 
above mediocrity ; and so is there no legend in heraldry so 
brave and wise as the healthy, fearless device of the Nugents, 
— " Bonne esperance et droit en avant." 

For perhaps there are few serious events in life where 
utter and complete failure, followed out in all its conse- 
quences, would not lead to irretrievable ruin. But it is 
very seldom indeed that we fail completely ; and even when 
we do, there are always circumstances enough growing out 
of our very discomfiture, which a tolerably able man can 
turn to account, so as to redeem the day. Thus is it that 
there have been retreats, moral as well as military, more bril- 
liant than victories ; and therefore let us reason well with 
ourselves, but when we have made up our minds, act with 
a certain hardihood, doubting little. I do not love over- 
doubters ; and to me the habitual sceptic and the imbecile 
seem near akin. The man who is infirm of purpose seems 
to me like one who, dodging about to escape a danger, is 
sure to run into it. 

Alfred de Verville did run into it. At thirty, his pleasant 
fortune, which, with moderate prudence, would have kept 
the world at his feet all his life, had dwindled into precisely 
fifteen thousand francs, — the balance of the price of a little 
country-house, half an hours canter from Paris, and which 
he had fitted up with exquisite taste just a year before. 

He was ruined ; but those who know the fashionable 
morality of Paris will readily understand that this fact was 
at first merely another arrow in his quiver. He had " eaten 
his fortune en grand seigneur" When he lost eighty thousand 
francs in one night, playing " le visk " with Lord Garterknee, 
he had paid it before noon the next day, disturbing the sleep 
of the astonished peer to do so; and he had called out 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



177 



Garterknee's friend Fitztoady for having spoken slightingly 
about him. Nothing could be better than this ; his ante- 
cedents were delightful ; all the opera-dancers and actresses 
swore by him • and he might have married one of the largest 
fortunes in France. Three widows called personally at the 
lodgings of the famous dandy, the very night after he had 
announced his insolvency at a gay little supper among the 
Moutardes. They found the door defended by Mademoiselle 
Fifine, of the Opera Oomique; and she kept her post with 
such untiring energy, that she lost her engagement, and was 
obliged to have several interviews with an American capi- 
talist (then spending a Californian fortune in Paris), to make 
up for her losses, and retrieve her reputation. 

There were bright and good women too, who had loved 
the debonnaire noble, long and secretly, as the gentlest 
love, and who would have renounced friends and kindred for 
his sake, and given up all to follow him ; but if there had 
been no Mademoiselle Fifine, Alfred de Verville would never 
have married a fortune : he was too loyal and high-hearted, 
too chivalrous and noble for that. He would have talked 
to maid or widow (if she had got admittance to him where 
he sat all awry in a debardewr dressing-gown and an easy 
chair, polishing his pistols), in a splendid easy way, with 
such a gay, graceful, touching forgetfulness of self, — with 
such a lofty, perfect, plain absence of all meanness and hypo- 
crisy, that he would have sent them away in hysterics, with 
his leal kiss upon their hands, and the fine image of the 
ruined gentleman graven in their hearts for ever. 

It was thus that when Mademoiselle Fifine proposed that 
they should live upon her salary, and got a contract drawn 
up by a mad little lawyer settling her income on her adored 
Alfred for ever ; and when she returned home with it, radiant 
from that proud sense of sacrifice women only feel, she found 
her lover gone ! 

A few lines told her that all she saw in the spendthrift's 
home was hers, and ten thousand francs of poor De Vervilie's 
last possession were placed in a ravishing little porte-monnaie 
beside a bouquet of the costliest flowers, and left on her 
dressing-table. 

M. de Verville was restored to his rank in the army, which 



178 



PICTURES FROM 



he had quitted seven years before ; and after having given 
thirty-two " redingotes" to his valet, determined to dress in 
uniform and live in quarters. 

It was a good beginning — too good. The habits of life 
cling to a man too strongly to be roughly shaken off in this 
way, unless he be made of sterner stuff than De Verville. 
His friends showed indeed a rare delicacy and kindness 
towards him, such as I think Frenchmen only know how to 
show ; but the high spirit of the beau shrank from sinking 
into a led captain, where he had formerly been so absolute. 

He could not become a trainer of young gentlemen, the 
resource of so many an undone dandy in similar circum- 
stances ; and he had not nerve enough to quit the scene of his 
triumphs, and set up at once as a soldier of fortune in Algiers. 

So he took to play, and as the devil of course stood at 
his elbow, he won, — won largely; and then he passed through 
the gates, where deserted Hope stands weeping. Again he 
blazed for a moment in the clubs and saloons ; again his turn- 
out eclipsed that of Montpensier and D'Auinale, in the Allee. 
Then suddenly he disappeared. A gentleman never wins 
in the long run at that game. 

His friends paid his gambling debts (all made in one week 
of desperate play) by subscription ; but there were all sorts 
of angry tailors and bootmakers, jewellers and perfumers, 
the avenging furies of folly, who had made Paris too hot to 
hold him. 

He went to Algiers, quarrelled with his brother officers 
for not being gentlemen,, and though supported by dashing 
St. Arnaud, got unlimited leave of absence as soon as the 
matter in dispute reached the ears of rough old Bugeaud, 
who had small taste for dandyism. 

He went roving about, a sort of chartered libertine now. 
Everybody had a kind merciful word for him ; and it was 
almost astonishing, knowing as one does of what hard callous 
materials the world is made, how much inexhaustible 
generosity and friendship followed De Verville — a pleasant 
instance of the actual solid value of being beloved. 

If Jules de Langueamere, who had a sneer for most people, 
including his own father, made a good book at Chantilly, or 
had a run of luck at lansquenet, a pretty well-filled envelope 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



179 



was tolerably sure to find its way to his old friend ; and the 
cold, shrewd, cruel man of the world would write him letters 
of womanly tenderness and affection. 

The same when quiet Antoine du Chateau received his 
monthly allowance from his aunt ; and when the old lady 
found out what he was doing, she doubled it ; for she knew 
well that her best-loved daughter had worn the willow for a 
gallant gentleman, and for whom. Indeed, this is why 
Antoine became her favourite, to the bitter envy of all her 
other nephews, and why at last she left him the broad lands 
of Monrepos and Malplaquet. 

But when royal great-hearted Simonet de Beaumont 
made that large haul of prize-money in the Pacific, he actu- 
ally sent it all in one lump to Alfred with only five words, 
" Allons, tu nous reviendras maintenant." He made his sister 
write the letter, and would not sign it ; but the adventurer 
found him out, and returned the splendid gift untouched. 

Perhaps he regretted it afterwards. It is certain that he 
was driven to shifts enough, and that he had become the 
dismay of tradesmen in many places. But he always held 
up his head bravely, and he never betrayed a friend. 
Perhaps he had now learned to think shopkeepers a race 
apart — lawful game to hunt and harry. I think, however, 
that the nature of a man's present pursuits is pretty legibly 
written on his face. Tradesmen are good physiognomists ; so 
that after all, De Yerville could not do much harm. If he 
was now and then pretty deep in a tailor's books, it is by no 
means impossible that the tailor found his account in it. 
The French gentleman now and then had money, and then 
he paid it grandly. If not, he had wonderful ideas about 
uniforms and dressing-gowns ; while to all the young men 
of the place he was sure to be the very glass of fashion. 

I wonder what he will become at last, and how he will 
end : all things are possible in France, and he has already 
been made an impromptu colonel in the Turkish service. 



N2 



180 



PICTURES FROM 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Signora Tenorini. An actress in a foreign country is a countess of 
course. The dying courtezan. The genius of debauch is cruel 
indeed. A calculating lady grows a prosperous thing. A Rus- 
sianized Bcyard. He espouses a gallant lady of the French nation ; 
is trained, cleaned, and tolerated by her early friends. She thriftily 
keeps his purse, and rules over him with wisdom and discernment. 
A pretty boy in bad company. A scape-grace, or stage nephew. 
A fashionable loiterer. A spoiled great man. Grief seeks oblivion in 
riot, and finds despair. A married gentleman endeavours to get into 
good society, with the cordial concurrence of his wife and liege lady. 

It was an actress's dinner, in honour of the arrival of 
Signora Tenorini — a countess, of course — and the party were 
already assembled. Actresses are jealous of each other, 
however; so the signora and our hostess were the only ladies 
present. 

The countess was a joyous roystering dame; but I marked 
her well ; and often when her mirth seemed wildest, a shade, 
like the memory of some sharp heart-pang, passed rapidly 
over her face. It came out incidentally, also, that she was 
dying : her mother and her sisters had all died of consump- 
tion. The doctor had condemned her, and she was hasten- 
ing her end daily. She had a golden-haired little daughter, 
in a convent of Touraine ; she would leave her three thou- 
sand francs a year, which she had saved up. This was why 
she had no rings, no bracelets, no dresses of consequence. 
The child would never know her mother. All her life she 
had never loved but once — we might guess whom. Her child 
was all she cared about in the world, yet she never dared to 
see her ; she felt so abashed in her presence : the calm 
solemn light of the child's eyes seemed to scorch her. When 
she had said this, she laughed, and smoked, and grew joyous 
again ; so that she even amused a brutal magnate who sat 
beside her. I thought, however, there must be something 
very cruel about the genius of debauch, to laugh over such 
sacrifices as this. 

The other lady was calm, keen, bedizened, speculating. 
She did all by calculation which the Italian did from natural 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



181 



recklessness and high spirits. The vices of the first, perhaps, 
owed their origin to chance, circumstance, early suffering, 
pique, anger, despair, what you will ; but our showy 
acquaintance had adopted pleasure as the most lucrative 
profession she could think of. She had a house, servants, 
money, savings. She was a shrewd prosperous thing ; a 
light among the marshes to lead astray. 

The cavaliers were a motley company. The man who sat 
opposite me was a dark, heavy, vicious-looking dolt, full of 
that rank bad-blooded sort of pride which builds itself on 
riches, no matter how obtained, and trumpery honours won 
by any species of treason and infamy, or inherited however 
unworthily. 

He had the low obscene face of a Satyr, or a fashionable 
bill-discounter \ it was sensual, mean, cunning. If you 
studied it, it grew fearful — the man was capable of anything 
if goaded ; but, at last, you fairly laughed at the strange 
caprice of nature, which had made him anything but a 
bailiff or a tipstaff. He was, however, unhappily, a frequent 
specimen of the Russianized Boyard. He was rich, and had 
acquired a questionable celebrity by his espousals with a 
gallant lady of the French nation. This was a very lucky 
thing for him, though his friends were furious ; for he was 
one of those fellows who have the love of low pleasures 
born in their hearts. He was tricky, as such men are ; but 
he was not wise; and there were ladies and gentlemen 
enough in Paris who would very soon have brought his 
noble to ninepence, and left him in the gutter. His mar- 
riage saved him. It could not better his heart ; but it had 
a happy influence on his manners. It taught him to dress 
soberly, and to wash regularly ; to keep himself nice, and 
talk politely. It introduced him to a few real gentlemen 
who had been early friends of his wife, and agreed good- 
hum ouredly to put up with him now and then for her sake. 
It made him temperate, and judicious in his vices. If he was 
still absent from no place where vulgar joys were sold, he 
was kept far too cleverly in hand to get into very deep mis- 
chief. His wife let him play the coachman and make 
improper acquaintances ; sup with boys more than young 
enough to be his sons. She permitted him to be just as 



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PICTURES FROM 



debauched and worthless as he pleased, or she could have 
kept no hold on his vile heart for a single week. She 
managed him by his cunning, and he learned to look upon 
her and respect her as a shrewder devil than himself. She 
taught him to shine (after his carrion fashion) on economical 
principles. She kept the purse, and it was always full. She 
deserved his gratitude, and she had it. They were congenial 
spirits — a precious pair. 

It was fine to mark the difference between this fellow and 
the gay debonnaire bearing of De Verville, who sat beside 
him (here from mere habit), sparkling with jest, and to whom 
everybody seemed to turn, even in his ruin, as the king of 
the banquet — the lord of misrule. I watched for one flash 
of genial wit, one honest laugh, or merry thought from the 
brute next him, in vain. He had married one of the wit- 
tiest women in Paris ; but he could not remember even 
one of her pleasantries to enliven a festival night. It 
appeared from his conversation that he knew most of the 
infamous women in Europe, and that he had passed, as we 
knew, the greater part of his life in their society. He 
remembered them and their antics with revolting regret. 
It appeared, also, that he had once driven six horses in a 
line, and could drink much more at a draught than was 
good for him. I could make nothing else out of him. 

Near him was seated a young man of singular beauty — 
soft and sweet-looking as a woman. He drank deeply, he 
sang, he sank into a fitful sleep, then he sang again. He 
looked so utterly exhausted, yet made such spasmodic efforts 
to be gay and reckless, that it made me quite melancholy to 
observe him. His wild life was killing him also, poor boy ! 

Again, further on was a scapegrace with large dark roguish 
eyes, the very type of a good-for-nothing — but not a bad one. 
He would have been an admirable study for a dramatist in 
want of a stage nephew for a huffy old uncle. 

Another of our party had simply come in as a loiterer, 
having no energy to pass his time in a more profitable 
manner. He was very well dressed, and very well con- 
tented with himself. He sat silent and smiling all the 
evening. His conduct could not have been more insipid and 
irreproachable if he had been a stranger at a christening. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



183 



Another was a man of thought and intellect written in 
every deep line of his furrowed face ; yet it was not 
attractive. It was the face of a gambler, whether with 
mind or purse. I could tell instinctively that he had come 
among us to seek refuge for a great grief — perchance from a 
cold hearth, and hopes crossed sorely. I was right in my 
surmises, as I learned long afterwards ; but if he sought 
oblivion here, he seemed only to find despair. He too sab 
silent, absent, ruined-hearted. He reminded me when I 
looked at him sitting so gloomy, of death at a feast. 

The last man of our party was a married man, who had 
come here with the full consent and concurrence of his wife. 
He was one of those people who pass a saving and laborious 
youth, but break out in all sorts of places, as if to indemify 
themselves in later life. He evidently thought he was 
wiping off a large score on the present occasion ; that it 
was, in point of fact, a fast and fashionable thing to be here 
among so many stars of a world he knew by little more 
than hearsay. The inveterate habits of the man, however, 
could not be shaken off, and I heard him asking De Verville 
gravely, if he did not think the inventor of the electric 
telegraph was " a very remarkable man !" De Vervilie said 
it was very probable, and immediately changed places with 
somebody else, to whom he transferred the infliction of a 
chat with common sense in the Temple of Folly — for I must 
say that it is an infliction. Ah ! sir, it is a very imprudent 
thing to have much to do with fast society. It is quite as 
difficult to get into, and far more huffy than good. It will not 
cherish you long if you live with it much, and when it 
rejects you you are denied admittance elsewhere. 

For the rest, the ladies were both of that uncertain age 
which actresses seem to have appropriated as peculiarly 
their own. They might have been twenty-seven, they 
might have been thirty-eight. They could hardly have been 
less or more. To a near-sighted man, without his glass, 
they appeared in the very first blush of youth, and health and 
beauty ; when he looked nearer, however, the mysteries of 
the toilet of these ladies were partly made plain. The 
colour on their cheeks was too even and delicate to be 
natural. The arch of their eyebrows was too clearly and 



184 



PICTURES FROM 



distinctly defined ; the eyebrows were also too black. They 
were not composed of a fine silky web-work, showing the 
white pure skin beneath, as Miss Wilkinson's are : they 
were firm, strong, broad black pencil-lines. I have an 
opinion that something was done to their eyelashes. Their 
lips were of too bright and showy a red. Their hair was 
too luxuriant. Their busts were too ample, their waists too 
small. Their voices were not more natural than their 
manners. They had a far-away habit of speaking, as if their 
words came from a vault somewhere at a distance — every 
movement betrayed the stage. I have known many actresses, 
but I never saw more than three who could play the part of 
ladies off the stage with even tolerable accuracy. The one 
was Sontag, the other was Pachel, and the third — but I dare 
not mention her. As for the appearance of the Hods, the 
principal feeling that occurred to the beholder on being 
introduced to their acquaintance, was a gentle admiration 
for their shirt-fronts, and a highly complimentary feeling 
towards their washerwomen. They were great in waistcoat 
buttons, rings, and watch-chains. I doubt if Mayfair or the 
Faubourg would quite have approved of so many large 
diamonds ; but on the whole, our young friends passed 
muster very well. There was a thorough air of enjoyment 
about some of them ; genuine high spirits, and a very fair 
amount of quick-wittedness ; but there was not that almost 
painful brilliancy which lights up such scenes in the Palais 
Royal. The party were, however, almost as French as could 
be. The ladies raved about Paris, and the gentlemen spent 
most of their time and money there, returning home only 
when the latter failed. They had all been brought up in 
Paris too, though they had not seen much of good society, 
except at the Turkish embassy, and knew perhaps more of 
the chaumiere and the bed mcibille than most other things. Of 
this company De Yerville was of course king. He appeared 
to have known all the ladies from their very tenderest youth 
upwards, and to be on the most mysteriously intimate terms 
with them. He had got them their engagements. Their 
hopes were in his patronage. He was their guide, philo- 
sopher, and friend. It was curious to watch the serious 
concern he took in their quarrels and jealousies, their piques 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



185 



and their interests ; the thorough knowledge of the world 
he betrayed in the playfullest sentences, or the merriest 
pun. 

The dinner began after a fashion borrowed from the 
Russians, who have had great influence on the social life of 
the Wallachians. We had glasses of strong waters handed 
round to create an appetite ; an advantage we could hardly 
have had without, seeing that probably none of us had done 
breakfast more than a few hours. I took some absinthe, 
which occasioned me a general tightness and swelling, with an 
acute pain and tingling in the ears. I am bound to add, 
however, that it had the desired effect. 

The feast opened with fresh cairare, sardines, and an- 
chovies j and we had, of course, a bustard, but it was not 
good, nor are bustards ever good. The rest was a mere 
French dinner, rather too plentiful. Our drink was cham- 
pagne, the favourite wine of the Russians. We had no 
other wine, but a glass of " cherry," after our soup. What 
this " cherry" could have been I am unable to say, but it 
looked so much like muddy Cape, that I declined to drink 
it. De Yerville said every other wine but champagne was 
detestable at Bucarest, and he was right, with exception of 
the excellent vins du pays, the presence of which would 
have of course been deemed an insult on the present occa- 
sion, because they are cheap. There was a good deal of 
laughing, but it was not genial. There were some snatches 
of French songs sung with the toasts. I am not clear that 
there was any meaning in them. Then came a quarrel. 
A frank young Wallachian had used a strong expression. 
De Yerville arranged this. There was a reconciliation, and 
tears. It was agreed that the charming " Fanni " had too 
much feeling. It was also probable that she had too much 
dinner, for she shortly afterwards retired, and her rival friend 
told us, mischievously, that it had been necessary to loosen 
her corset. Our mirth grew louclish after this. Then came 
more quarrelling and more making up. Then De Yerville 
sang a song, in which the ladies joined. Then we had more 
champagne ; and at last, amid an indescribable scene of 
screaming laughter, stifling smoke, inadmissible jokes, and 
the chorus of " La rifla, Jla, jla" going on at a separate end 



186 



PICTURES FROM 



of the table, a servant from the theatre arrived to summon 
away one of our guests, and five minutes afterwards we 
were rolling along the frosty streets about our business, 
by the light of the moon, and making wry faces at the 
reckoning. 

And this is the stale, dull, vulgar life, which thousands of 
men of cultivated intellects and gentle hearts lead day after 
day, year after year. I would rather be a Methodist parson, 
as to the fun of the thing. It is the paltriest cheat, the 
most insulting delusion, to call this pleasure. Why, it is 
neither more nor less than the purchase of headaches on dis- 
advantageous terms. I was glad when the door opened on 

the quiet drawing-room of Made. T , where we spent 

the evening at a delightful little Christmas game, called 
" King and Courtiers" 

I have never seen it anywhere before, and I think it must 
be Russian also. 

" The Tenorini gives an inauguration supper," said De Yer- 
ville. He was seated in a birja, beside a braided besabled 
Boyard, and our little carriages met. " She would have asked 
you, if you had not disappeared so suddenly. In any case, 
however, come with us." 

There was something quite contagious about his gaiety, an 
appetite for pleasure at the most impossible hour of the 
night, which was quite surprising. There mast be some 
charm in the man's life, I thought, after all ; some witchery 
to make such a joyous and untiling captive as this of him : 
so I ceded to the invitation, and we all got into the same 
carriage, though there was only properly room for two, and 
drove briskly and laughingly to the actress's lodging. 

It was a snug little place with a sort of familiar disorder 
about it not ungraceful. The most showy things were 
really meant to be used, and were used for whatever purpose 
they would serve, without much regard for the right one. 
In a corner of the room was going on a nice little game 
called Faro, and the stakes were high ; for gambling is one 
of the national curses of Wallachia. Now, I can fancy deep 
play well enough, but not that the chances should turn on a 
card. That is too pitiful a business. I contented myself 
with watching the players. They were evidently all habitual 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



187 



gamblers, though more excitable than such men often are. 
Three thousand ducats passed between them in less than 
an hour. Then came the supper. 

" Luckily," said a good-natured colonel, who had formerly 
been in the Russian service, and seen too much of such 
follies on a grand scale at St. Petersburg to care about them 
here ; " luckily for Costaki there is no imprisonment for 
debt amongst us : and no one, by our law, can touch his wife's 
dower, or Costaki would be ruined in a fortnight. His wife 
would sign away her piano if the law would let her, and 
they have nothing but her fortune to live on. Three years 
ago he was himself, also, one of the richest men among us. 
He has lost everything at idiotic games like this." 

Our sapper was not so merry as the dinner had been. 
The actress was at home now, and very much better worth 
studying. I wish some young people I have known could 
have seen her with her rouge off and her hair out of curl, 
tired to exhaustion, captious, dissatisfied, weary-hearted ; 
they would have no longer seen much attraction in the 
brilliant life of the theatre. Perhaps no women undergo 
such severe bodily fatigue as actresses. The wear and tear 
of mind in learning new parts ; the perpetual change of 
dress; the rehearsals; the jealousies, hatreds, and rivalries ; 
the worrying of managers ; the necessity for conciliating 
authors, orchestra, and notabilities among the public ; the 
makers of reputations ; the minute study of detail and stage 
effect. Poor women ! I question if washerwomen work 
harder. When I got home at last, I did not think that the 
life of a man of pleasure seemed more desirable from being 
seen a little longer and more nearly. 

We are all very wise and proper, I dare say, when we cry 
out about the license of actresses ; but the fact is, we close 
the gates of respectable life to them. Our women will 
patronize them, but they will not know them. They will 
receive, but they will not visit them. They have no friends 
among the respectabilities. We will all agree to give 
nothing, but a sort of contemptuous toleration. For my 
part, I should wonder if actresses did not throw society over, 
seeing how they are treated by it. Prudence is a very fine 
thing, and a very wise thing ; but there are not many of us 



188 



PICTURES FROM 



who would have courage enough to practise it. if it could 
win us neither esteem nor consideration. The other road 
seems at least easier and pleasanter, so they take it and find 
out their mistake too late. 



CHAPTEE XL. 

A Russian spy. His agreeable manners. Good nature of the Walla- 
chians to strangers pleasingly exemplified. The Agga. Prudent 
conduct recommended to spies in general. Description of the com- 
monest sort of spy. Spies are strongly recommended to shun 
fashionable entertainments. 

u Monstrous agreeable fellow that with the well-made coat 
and stubbly moustaches ; speaks French like a Frenchman. 
Who is he J " 

" I haven't an idea — some diplomatic swell, I suppose. I 
have heard him speaking five different languages since we 
entered the room." 

" Odd we can't make him out." 

« Very." 

There is a general buzz in the room about the distin- 
guished-looking individual indicated by these remarks. 
Three ladies, one after the other, ask me to present him, 
under the impression that he is a Briton ; when I express 
my unhappy inability to do their bidding, curiosity has 
reached its height, for the same request has been made to 
an Austrian officer, a Prussian author, and to M. de Verville, 
who knows everybody. And yet our friend is not a "Wal- 
lachian. 

" Nor a Moldavian," says M. de Cantacuzene, who cer- 
tainly ought to be able to answer that question. 

Acquaintances, however, are nowhere made easier than at 
Bucarest, and the unknown gentleman is soon engaged in 
the most animated conversation with all sorts of people. 
He has certainly a winning and agreeable manner, and when 
he gives some account of himself, of course he will be quite 
an addition to our society this carnival. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



189 



Account or no account, he has certainly made an impres- 
sion ; and those good-humoured Wallachians are walking up 
and down the room with him, and laughing and talking with 
him, as if they had been mutually acquainted for the best 
part of their lives. 

Upon my word of honour, the Boyards are vastly civil to 
strangers. He has been already introduced to half the 
people in the room, and there is actually the agga (minister 
of police), the most witty and elegant of our dandies, going 
up to speak to him. 

The agga is a tall spare man, in a well-made uniform, not 
unlike the undress of our Life Guards. He has been watch- 
ing the proceedings of the illustrious stranger for some time ; 
and now saunters negligently towards him, as he stands amid 
a little crowd of talkative admirers. Then the agga tilts 
his military person gracefully on the point of his left toe, and 
whispers something quite familiarly into the ear of the great 
unknown, without even the formality of an introduction. 
The stranger turns suddenly pale, his lips twitch, and his eyes 
quail. He stops in the midst of a pungent anecdote, and 
shortly afterwards leaves the room, crest-fallen exceedingly. 

"Ah ! the rogue !" says the agga presently, with the 
pleasant and gratified air of an angler who has hooked a dif- 
ficult fish, " I watched him, and knew my man soon enough ; 
he is a soi-disant count, and a Russian spy. It is seldom 
that they work so daringly as this. Your clever spy should 
be quiet as a mouse ; the servant of a man in office, or a 
consul's clerk. We do not often look for them in a ball- 
room, for directly a man shows in society, we are sure to 
know more about him than he thinks, be he whom he may. 



190 



PICTURES FROM 



CHAPTER XLI. 

The Hospodar of Wallachia. His Russian uniform and Turkish manners. 
He is a well-informed and well-bred gentleman. His reforms and 
explanations. 

The prince's house is a modest building, with only an open 
semi-circular court to defend it from the road-side and the 
inquisitive gazing of the passers by. A sentry, however, 
parades before each of the great gates, and there is a guard- 
house full of soldiers, who turn out with beat of drum when- 
ever the Hospodar rides abroad. 

Two aides-de-camp in waiting receive us. They are dressed 
in Russian sort of uniforms. They are slim, smiling, gentle- 
manly men. There are also several servants in scarlet 
liveries, and two splendidly dressed Albanians. The latter 
greet me with all the easy familiarity and good-will of their 
race, a race of free lances whose hope is in the sword. 

We passed through one or two simply-furnished rooms, 
and soon make our bow to the princess, who is seated on a 
sofa, surrounded by some Austrian officers of high rank. 

She is a charming and gifted lady. It was a privilege to 
talk with her, and she received us with distinguished courtesy 
merely as Englishmen. After the last guest had arrived, 
Prince Stirbey came in. He is certainly the youngest man 
of his age I ever saw ; 'he is also polished and courteous to 
a degree. I think he had something the manners of a 
Turkish pasha of high rank, who had had an embassy in 
Europe. For the rest, he was dressed in the uniform of a 
Russian colonel of cavalry : blue, with red facings, and 
silver epaulettes. He wore a silver star, and the Turkish 
order of the ISTisham in brilliants. His figure is slight and 
elegant, his hair perfectly and naturally black and curly, his 
eye bright and keen. He is as upright as a dart at sixty ! 

He received us with marked attention, placing us on his 
left side at dinner, while Mahmoud Pasha, the Turkish chief 
authority, sat on his right. He addressed nearly the whole 
of his conversation to us, and he spoke very reasonably and 
well on every subject discussed. He had an intimate know- 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



191 



ledge of the state of parties, and the characters of public men 
in England ; he understood our institutions thoroughly, and 
made some very able comments upon them. 

The dinner was the usual mixture of Eussian and French. 
It was carefully served, and the wines were excellent, espe- 
cially the Madeira. A capital brass band played between 
the courses. The prince said that the musicians were all 
Wallachians, and that they had been educated under his 
directions, with a view to establish a good school of music at 
Bucarest. 

After dinner we passed a few minutes with the princess, 
and then went into an inner room, which was fitted up with 
divans for smoking, Immediately we entered, the prince 
rose from the sofa on which he had been sitting, and made 
way for us beside him. After we had smoked a single pipe, 
and that by no means so splendid an affair as usual in other 
parts of Turkey, though the mouth-pieces were, I noticed, 
made of the costly black Wallachian amber, the guests rose 
to go. I was about to depart also, but the prince laid his 
hand pleasantly on my shoulder : — 

" Stay, let us talk a little," said he. 

We remained some time after this together, alternately 
standing and walking about. He certainly spoke very feel- 
ingly and well : he said there had been a disposition to find 
fault with his government, but he had done all that was in 
his power. He had built the new theatre, and formed the 
chaussee. He had established scientific schools ; he had tried 
to reward merit in the distribution of public employments. 
The country owed him something ; but he would have done 
much more if he had fallen on quieter times. He said that 
his part throughout had been one of kindness and concilia- 
tion ; but he had not had a fair chance. The consuls would 
not communicate with him in a friendly way ; or with each 
other. The Austrian authorities pulled one way, the Turks 
another, the allies also another. Everybody seemed to be 
at loggerheads without knowing why. At Bucarest he was 
accused of Austrian sympathies ; elsewhere it was said he 
had not done enough for the protecting army. Now he was 
accused of being a Russian, now a Turk. The case was 
singular, and not agreeable ! 



192 



PICTURES FROM 



Then lie said much more which was private, and therefore 
sacred ; but this he wished to be known, and therefore I 
have told it. 

When I again rose to go, he pressed me by the hand in 
that affectionate way which is a second nature with his coun- 
trymen, and he began to inquire about my journey, gave me 
a good deal of advice, which I found very useful, and finally 
ordered one of his own couriers to see me to the frontier. 



CHAPTER XLII. 

The author takes an affectionate leave of the wise men of the East, and 
hints at his own pleasant philosophy. Happy effects of Eastern 
travel. Difference between the best men and the worst. Greek 
skopos. Character of the Orientals. The author wisely expresses 
his inability to say what is to be done with them after the most 
approved fashion of the greatest political writers. 

Alas ! in taking leave of the East I am compelled to say, that 
the more I have seen of it, the more it has made me melan- 
choly. I am not a melancholy man, either \ I have seen 
quite enough of the world to have a tolerably wide toleration. 
I am not one of those, who Franklin told us in his charming 
essay are always looking at the ugly leg. The ugly leg must 
be insufferably intrusive, it must positively rise up and kick 
one's shins, before I or any one else who has reasoned fairly 
upon life, will examine it with the smallest attention. We 
know pretty well (I may speak of myself, as I am but a 
shadow), that a good many very disagreeable circumstances 
are inevitable in the character of nations, as well as indi- 
viduals. Long before we leave college we begin to under- 
stand that our schoolboy dream of heroic virtue is as unreal 
for others as ourselves. We see that our judgments of men 
and things require a good deal of elbow-room ; for it is pru- 
dent to grant the charity we shall be obliged to ask. We 
get a truer view of life, perhaps a sadder — perhaps a gayer, 
according to our dispositions ; and as heroic virtue may 
formerly have appeared to us a dull business or otherwise. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



193 



But in any case the sentiments of men, who really do know 
the world, are large and liberal enough in all conscience. 
They are not easily shocked. We may raise our eyebrows, 
and forget to ask a man very often to dinner, if we fancy 
there is something shy about him ; but ten to one if some 
prig runs a muck at him, we shall set that prig down as an 
offensive humbug, and give him a yawn, or a rap on the 
knuckles for his stupid tirade, as we may feel inclined. We 
certainly shall not pay serious attentiqn to a word of it ; and 
may very likely think we owe a more cordial shake of the 
hand to the man attacked for having even involuntarily 
listened to such nonsense about him. 

But you cannot go about shaking the hands of the present 
generation in the East. It is positively too bad. It is no 
longer a question between the ugly and the handsome leg. 
Both legs are ugly ; and both equally black. The very soul 
and spirit of a gentleman revolts from the contact of an 
Oriental. ISTo matter how favourably disposed you may have 
been towards him,— no matter how frankly and kindly you 
may treat him, — he will end by disgusting you. A length- 
ened residence in the East would ruin the heart, temper, and 
judgment of the gentlest and wisest philosopher. Every 
human being you meet is branded with the same indelible 
mark, and is made up of lies, tricks, and infamy. Let no 
humanity-monger attempt to deny this on the strength of 
a month at Constantinople, and half a dozen pipes with 
pashas. The East requires years of study before you will 
allow yourself to admit a truth which positively frightens 
and ashames you from its terrible generality. You struggle 
against the ungenerous thought as an enemy, but it leaves 
you ignominiously prostrate : you fly from it, but it over- 
takes you ; you stubbornly shut your eyes against convic- 
tion, and they are forced open. 

There is everywhere, and in all things, the same want of 
private honesty and public faith. The best men are liars and 
robbers. They rob as a provision for their family, or to 
acquire a snug independence for themselves. They rob as a 
duty, as a right, or perquisite of office. The sweepings of 
Italian prisons are not so bad as the worst. There is every- 
where that infernal Greek " Skopos" No man has the 



194 



PICTURES FRO}! 



smallest belief in himself or any one else. "Words cease alto- 
gether to be symbols of things. Every man knows that his 
own acts, from childhood, have been cheats, coined by cun- 
ning herself, and he believes that the acts and deeds of all 
men are the same. Talk to his heart for hours, and you will 
find no response or healthy human feeling in it. He will be 
plausible, reasonable, moderate, enough ; but he will most 
utterly dupe and despise you if you trust him. You may 
work on his pride and vanity up to a certain ])oint, but there 
is nothing good even about them ; and he will obey their 
dictates just so long, and no longer, as they absolutely do 
not interfere with the most petty object of the most passing 
and momentary interest. Directly you get him up to this 
point he stops short. The arguments of Wisdom herself 
would be lost upon him. He will try to deceive you with 
all his heart and soul, and with all his strength. He will 
succeed, to his own injury and eventual discomfiture of 
course ; but here he is blind. He is a trickster, and there- 
fore necessarily a dolt ; the most exasperating dolt of all, a 
cunning dolt. 

Habitual intercourse with him is impossible ; you may 
try it bravely, stubbornly, but you will give it up at last in 
despair. You might resolve to ignore the fact that your 
new acquaintance is a pirate, going out for a dishonest cruise, 
but if you do not retire he will inevitably get you into the 
same boat with him, and sail away with your colours impu- 
dently flying at his mast-head. You may fancy you have 
been out for a constitutional walk with him, and you will 
find to your dismay, that you have been party to a burglary. 
You may believe that you have stood up for lrim against an 
oppressor, and discover, too late, that you have aided him in 
sorely wronging the innocent and helpless ; if you but open 
your lips as his friend, you will learn, in due season, that he 
has made vou the seeming advocate of some foul and in- 
famous design. 

What is to be done with these unhappy men ? I confess 
I tremble when I think of the ages of shame and degrada- 
tion they are bringing on themselves. Hitherto the edu- 
cated classes have been the worst ; thought exhausts itself 
about them in vain, and the mind's eye strains itself to discover 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 195 

some light in the East ; but all is darkness. The responsi- 
bilities of bad governments are indeed heavy, if they can 
bring things at last to such a point as this. Sultans, czars, 
viziers, and stubble, behold your work, and tremble ! 



CHAPTER XLIIL 

A chatty breakfast interrupted by preparations for the road. The 
author prudently provides for emergencies, and lays in a tempting 
stock of provisions, in case he should be obliged to winter on the 
Russian frontiers, The author describes the beauties of the scenery 
with grace and pathos. 

It is my last morning at Bucarest, and I am quite sorry 
■when a chatty breakfast is disturbed by the arrival of a tra- 
velling chariot which I have been fortunate enough to buy. 
and ten wiry little horses which are to whisk me away towards 
Craiova and the frontier. Shortly afterwards, a Wallachian 
post cart, with four other ponies, rattles up. That is for the 
prince's courier, who will gallop on a post ahead always, to 
get my horses ready. 

I am told there is a weary journey before me ; but I am 
at all events well provided for most emergencies. I have 
an immense bearskin cloak over two other far coats, high 
sheepskin boots, a sheepskin cap, and sheepskin gloves with 
the wool turned inwards and no divisions between the fingers. 
I have a snug close carriage with quite a library inside, a cold 
roast turkey, a large ham sausage, some bread, salt, sugar, 
tea, and several bottles of wine. A little colony of English 
is mustered to say good-bye, for fellow country people grow 
intimate in out-of-the-way places. Then after a warm shake 
of the hand from Mr. Colquhoun, a word of excellent parting- 
advice, and a pleasant smile from Joe, my servant climbs 
heavily up into the rumble through a cloud of cloaks, and 
away we roll. 

At first we go bumping through the streets in a sort of 
funeral procession, and the ten wiry little horses have much 

o 2 



196 



PICTURES FROM 



difficulty in turning the carriage round the sharp angular 
corners, so that one of my lamps which Joe has garnished up 
so trimly is broken in no time. However. I take this merely 
as a playful pat of fortune ; a sort of pleasant practical joke 
made to rally me about the absurdity of having lamps at all 
these pleasant moonlight nights. 

When we get off the stones, however, and on to the wild 
trackless road beyond the town, the postillions (there are 
four of them) begin to yell like so many imps, and I am 
grateful to my springs, for I see that we are galloping over 
the frozen ground as fast as racing feet can cany us. 

So away by yokes of oxen and patient serfs tui^ning round 
to look at us with the deep-set sorrowful eyes of the Wallach. 
The sweet accents of their language, with its luxury of vowels, 
comes delightfully on the ear through the falling evening air, 
and mingles with the lowing of the cattle as they wander 
homeward. 

On through the dark midnight, long after the veiled moon 
has left us ; through the trackless snow, with the wolf's 
hustling gallop, and the jackal's howl behind, around, with 
the wild cat's eyes glaring from the bush, and the village dog 
prowling fearful and solitary. Past the lonely sledge of the 
humble way farer, who stands beside and unbonnets respectfully 
to the Viennese travelling chariot with its mvsterious mails 
and imperials. On past the Austrian patrols, by the hoarse 
challenge of the awakened man at the barrier. Away, while 
the morning breaks greyly, and the snipe and the wild duck 
get up scared by the screeching of the postillions. On through 
the roused hamlet and the silent heath, through drift, and 
marsh, and endless plain — on, on, ever onwards — for, sweet- 
heart, it is your lover hastening towards you. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



197 



CHAPTER XLIY. 

The author is astonished at the cleanliness of Craiova. The fame of 
Lord Brougham has penetrated even to that remote city. The 
author describes his breakfast with feeling and earnestness. He 
divines thereby that his host is a married man. The latter confesses 
his honours with a wry smile. Purity of the governing classes at 
Craiova. The author unexpectedly displays his aristocratic con- 
sideration of money, and reveals, in a pleasing manner, that he is 
better than other people. 

Ckaiova is a nice, fresh, clean, pretty little town, situated on 
a gently rising ground, a rare thing in this country. The 
place had a pleasant air of wealth and comfort about it, and 
its appearance was quite a relief after the sad spectacle of 
the Wallachian villages on our way. The director of the post 
received me with the most kindly hospitality in a room that 
would have looked well even in the Faubourg St. Germain, 
with its wealth of annuals and gilded books, its prints and 
air of elegant good taste. 

He drove me also in a dashing Yienna brougham, drawn 
by two high-stepping Hungarian horses, to visit the Austrian 
General in command of the six thousand troops that are 
stationed here. 

"When we have seen him and had a short talk, we are 
again whisked away in the smart brougham ; and my host, 
for such he has obligingly constituted himself, drives me 
round the town to get a general idea of it. I am bound to 
say that idea was highly satisfactory. It seemed as thriving, 
bustling a little place as needs be. The director pointed out 
a new hotel to me, constructed on the same principle as the 
" Stadt London," at Bucarest. I was grateful for his hospi- 
tality, however, nevertheless, and I had reason to be so, for 
on returning home we found a breakfast which would have 
done honour to the Cafe de Paris. There was a Julienne 
soup, such as one only gets from cunning country cooks who 
have plenty of fresh garden dainties. There was some hure 
de sanglier, some cold tongue in jelly, a beef-steak, of which 



198 



PICTURES FROU 



the like is not often seen, and some preserved peaches of 
exquisite delicacy. 

" You must be married, Herr Director," said I, surprised 
by so many good things. 

" I am," he replied, smiling, " a bachelor never had such 
cheer as this." 

I stayed long enough at Craiova to learn that here also 
there were great complaints against the Austrians. " What 
have we done," cried one Wallachian gentleman, to whom I 
spoke, " what have we done to be made a political plaything, 
and cursed with such eternal misrule as this ? We are a good 
people, believe it, but they will not let us be good ; they are 
driving us mad or brutifying us with oppression." 

And on counting my money, I found that posting had cost 
me thirteen-and-a-half ducats for twelve horses to Craiova, 
and I had to pay nine-and-a-half more on to Orsova. The 
postillions cost a zwanziger each every stage. I need hardly 
add with such hosts as the Herr Director, wherever I stopped 
Joe's turkey and ham sausages were quite unnecessary ; but 
then I travelled under peculiar advantages, so that it is still 
my opinion that any private gentleman posting over the 
same ground will do well to take his larder with him. 



CHAPTEE XLY. 

In praise of the Wallachian post. The author claims public esteem 
by making light of the dangers of his journey, but points them out 
with imaginative vivacity. Politeness of a pair of Austrian mous- 
taches. Opinions of an Austrian postmaster on the war. Straws 
show which way the wind blows. 

Decidedly the Wallachian post is excellent. In spite of 
my dawdling at Craiova, I was only forty hours in going 
from Bucarest to Orsova. 

The road from Craiova, however, appeared dangerous, for 
I noticed two mounted guards rode after the carriage at the 
second stage, and followed us through a great part of the 
night. They never spoke nor saluted, but I could hear the 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



199 



muffled gallop of their horses on the snow, and their weird 
picturesque figures looming in the misty moonlight, and the 
light of my reading-lamp flashed upon a shining pistol-barrel or 
sword-hilt when we were detained a moment at the barriers. 

Before we came to Orsova, our drag-chain grew suddenly 
useful, for we had to go down some very steep hills, with, 
deep precipices on each side ; it was dangerous work, and it 
looked like it, for we went down them full gallop in spite of 
the drag-chain, and the heavy Viennese chariot was swayed 
to and fro in a manner that was anything but encouraging. 

We had no sooner passed the frontier when a singularly 
long pair of moustaches, surmounted by a cap with the 
imperial royal apostolic crown of Hapsburg Lorraine upon 
it, was thrust into the carriage window. 

" Who are you ? " said the moustaches ; and this was the 
first and last time that the question was put to me in 
Austria. 

" Who are you J " 

" An English officer." 

" Have you nothing liable to duty 1 * 

" Nothing." 

" On vour honour ?" 

" Yes." 

" Pass on." 

After a bad breakfast, and being moreover made to suffer 
considerably in the exchange of some ducats, I wait on the 
postmaster, cap in hand. 

" Herr postmeister, will you oblige me with horses on to 
Szegedin, immediately 1 " 

Postmaster : " I have but five horses ; and they — and 
they — wait awhile." 

" I am an English officer, carrying despatches from the 
seat of war, my lord postmaster. If detained, I must report 
myself, and state why." 

Postmaster : " The war is nothing to us ; it is your war, 
not ours." 

" Oh ! * 

Postmaster : " But if you were the devil himself, you 
should not go until the postboy had had a comfortable break- 
fast." 



200 



PICTURES FROM 



So I go to the military authority, a pleasant old major, 
and he at once sends an orderly to force the postmaster's 
hand. 

Orsova is a miserable straggling town, though its situation 
is pretty. On leaving it, I found the German post was a 
very different affair to the Wallachian. It is excessively dear, 
and about as badly organized as can be. 



CHAPTER XLYI. 

The author expresses a generous delight at his return to Austria, and 
comments agreeably on the great zeal and liveliness of the Germans. 
A postmaster prepares for the road with ingenuity and discretion. 
The author incurs the hospitable censure of a neighbourhood. Cool- 
ness of a bumpkin. A wrangle. A fair maid of the village advo- 
cates the author's cause with vigour and efficacy. 

And so I am in dear lazy Austria again ! The postmaster 
at the first stage from Orsova kept me an hour and a half 
before I could prevail on him to harness the five horses, which 
he thought proper to allot me, after looking at my carriage. 

Then he thought he should like to drive himself, and was 
obliged to have his spectacles mended to do so. Then he 
took a solemn leave of his wife and family, and a parting 
cup with some friends. Then the horses were to be fed, 
then watered. Then a man with a long gun, belonging to 
one of the frontier regiments, came to inspect my passport, 
to satisfy the curiosity of some petty local authority, but not 
being able to read it, he took it away with him, and time 
sped on ! Then the neighbourhood collected to examine me, 
and there was a good deal of rather dull cross- questioning. 
Then the postmaster, with spectacles on nose, a long whip 
under one arm and a pipe under the other, his woollen gloves 
usurping for the nonce its legitimate place in his mouth, 
began to expatiate on the merits of the horse he had bought 
last week. He could not find it in his heart to start till he 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



201 



had told me the whole history. Then his wife came to call 
him back to say good-bye again, and also to give him a 
spenser to put over his legs. At last we got off ; but slowly, 
and with a due regard for the new purchase. I thought also 
that the neighbourhood seemed to consider me rather wanting 
in courtesy, for starting so abruptly. They would have liked 
to give me their blessing and good wishes in due form, with 
some black puddings, for my journey. 

Yet a stage farther on, and I was obliged to take four 
oxen and five horses. Their united strength, however, could 
hardly pull my carriage through the deep snow drifts, and 
over the endless hills. Two of the oxen, after a short trial, 
refused to draw at all, and were obliged to be taken off. 
The driver of the other two then proposed to abandon us in 
the very worst and wildest part of the road. If he had done 
so, we must certainly have come to grief ; but your bumpkin 
is a marvellously cool hand at that kind of thing. He was 
at last persuaded to remain, on receiving four times the sum 
he had originally agreed to take ; I consented to give it, and 
it seems I did so too easily, for before we got a hundred 
yards he came to a dead stop again. I persuaded him to go 
on, however, and of course at the end of the stage we came 
to a wrangle. I was willing to pay him four times the sum 
for which he had first bargained, but not more. This made 
him violent. The posthouse was at a lonely village, with 
nobody but the postmaster's daughter to be seen. She, how- 
ever, took my part with such vigour and efficacy, that the 
dishonest lout retired at last discomfited. The postillion also, 
a good-natured serious little fellow, put in his word on the 
side of good faith, and I was glad of it. 

THE MAID OE DOEYEA. 

Sweet maid of the village, when first I beheld thee, 

So modestly shone the pure light of thine eyes, 
That a heart little apt to be fanciful held thee 
Eor some silly bumpkin too lovely a prize. 
Well-a-day, 
Yet they say, 
The diamond hid in the dull earth lies. 



202 



PICTURES FROM 



It was but a moment that saw us together, 

But once thy soft hand with my rough arm did join, 
Yet your true simple accents will haunt me for ever, 
And sighs for the fate which perchance may be thine. 
Well-a-day, 
Who can say, 
Yet if it be not for better than mine. 

Were I a young prince through a fairy land roaming, 

I'd woo thee and ask thee to rove on with me, 
Now I can but hope that some young prince is coming, 
To bear off the beauty I only may see. 
Well-a- day, 
We can say, 
That which hath been again may be. 

Farewell, gentle maiden, sometimes too remember, 

The stranger who passed on his mystic carreer, 
And that thou wert as May, and that he as December, 
.Recalled with a smile nigh akin to a tear. 
Well-a-day, 
Yet there may 
Be sunshine sometimes at the end of the year. 



CHAPTER XLYIL 

The author hints mildly at the difficulty of learning the names of 
foreign towns. A lord postmaster. Vorspann. The lord master 
points out the true geographical position of a guard-house. A ser- 
geant. A captain. The author again calls attention to the hilarity 
and easiness of his disposition. He performs a lively dance in the 
presence of fourteen Austrian soldiers, to impress with a useful 
and becoming idea of the British nation. 

I am at a far-away village in the Banat of Temesvar — no 
matter where, I think it was at Sakul, but it would take 
years to learn these names correctly. Five tired horses pull 
my carriage up, smoking and wearily, to the post-house. 
There is a heavy snow-storm, and it may be about eleven 
o'clock at night, it may be twelve, or two, or three, I do not 
know, for I have been asleep. The postmaster is also 
asleep, and sleeps hard, but we must wake him, for I must 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



203 



travel on at any rate. So we knock and hail with much 
perseverance. 

At last the door opens with a violent jerk, and an 
excitable man in drawers and a nightcap, charges suddenly 
out upon us with surprising fury. He cannot speak, from 
rage and sleep, but he gesticulates frantically. I know my 
friend and his countrymen, however, pretty well, and in an 
instant my cap is in one hand, and my passport in the 
other. 

" I pray you, my Lord Postmaster, give me horses to go on. 
I am an English courier, with despatches from the seat of 
war." 

u Then you may go to the devil," screams the Lord Post- 
master, giving tongue at last. 

" I pray you, this is royal service, my lord." 

Then I may go to the " Compagnie," it is not so far as the 
devil, and in the same direction, so that I can go on if it 
pleases me better. The " Compagnie " (troop of Austrian 
soldiers) will give me vorspann, if I am a gentleman. It 
is not worth while to keep post-horses, nobody ever hires 
them. Every cavalier has a government order for vorspann, 
as a matter of course. Then my irritable acquaintance 
slams the door in a perfect whirlwind of fury, and disap- 
pears, leaving me to moralize on the bad effect of privileges 
of almost every kind. 

Moralizing in the snow, however, is inconvenient, and at 
last I persuade my tired postillion, of course by a bribe, to 
walk with me through the storm, towards the place where 
the "Compagnie" is quartered. 

There I find a troop of soldiers all huddled together, 
stifling with heat in a small jug of a room. It is dimly 
lighted and foggy, as most guard- houses are. 

After every man has collectively and individually 
examined my passport with the more care and minuteness 
that none of them can read it, I am referred to the 
sergeant. 

The sergeant is asleep in a corner, but I must wake him, 
and I do so with some tact and difficulty, taking care that 
his opening eyes should rest first on my bare head and doffed 
cap. "When the sergeant is awake, he looks like a man who, 



204 



PICTURES FROM. 



having met with, some matter of excessive astonishment in 
early life, has never entirely recovered from it. He appears, 
however, at length to understand the importance of news 
from the seat of war, and gives me a man who takes me 
through the snow again to the captain's lodgings. I agree 
to wake up that functionary also on my own respon- 
sibility. 

So to the captain we go, and the soldier taps respectfully 
at his window. A voice, like a discharge of small arms, 
says something in Wallachian, which is still spoken here ; 
but I do not catch the words clearly. The soldier answers 
tremblingly, and looks daggers at me. Then there is another 
volley of words, which I think it prudent to cut short, by 
explaining my name and business. 

Then my passport must be examined again, but it is 
looked at this time by a man who can at least read the 
German visa at Orsova, without which I should have been 
lost, and it is returned to me with great courtesy. 

The soldier is ordered to get me vorspann directly, but 
not even the officer can let me off without a long conversa- 
tion, during which I try to give him food for some days' 
conversation in as few words as possible. 

In conclusion, he says I shall have to pay double the price 
of vorspann, and give me a present to the corporal. I 
smilingly agree to this, and the window closes. I am once 
more free to roam through the snow in search of 
horses. 

The corporal is a brisk fellow, and the peasants know him 
too well to oppose any difficulties to his demand, so the matter 
is soon arranged ; but the horses are wandering about the 
fields somewhere, and will first have to be found, then caught. 
This will take an hour or two, which I may as well pass 
agreeably ; for the corporal has promised to send for me 
when all is ready. 

There are lights, and the sound of fiddling coming through 
some half-opened shutters in the high street. I inquire the 
reason of this, and am informed there is a public ball within. 
I rejoice at that circumstance, and immediately join the 
revellers with much inward satisfaction at the prospect of 
warmth, and wine, and wassail. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



205 



I find a merry gipsy- like assembly. The men are dressed 
in shirt- sleeves, high black sheepskin caps with the wool 
turned outwards, hessian boots, and embroidered breeches. 
The women have their hair bound up in gay-coloured 
handkerchiefs, they have high-coloured complexions, rather 
bronzed, and sheepskin great coats. They are dancing 
with much energy and determination, and altogether free 
from that awkward bashfulness which so often forms part 
of English country merrymakings. They danced indeed so 
joyously, that I took an early opportunity of joining them, 
and in less than a quarter of an hour after my entrance 
among them, I was clapping my hands, and shaking my 
forefinger, and turning round about with an alacrity that 
surprised myself. I must have looked a strange outlandish 
figure, but nobody made any observation about me, and 
I seemed to take my place among the dancers quite 
naturally. 

I noticed that the fiddlers who played to us were as usual 
melancholy men, but perhaps they were affected by the 
presence of the fourteen Austrian soldiers on duty, in the 
little room, though there were but nineteen other men, 
fiddlers included ! 



CHAPTER XLVIII. 

The author expatiates on the pleasure of travelling in Austria. A 
gend'arme. The raiiberation. Ajudgeturnedband.it. A paternal 
government. Wise distribution of official patronage. A democrat. 
Clemency of the emperor. An orphan heiress. A faithful steward. 
Good feeling of the Rouman peasantry. Number of policemen in 
livery. 

It is a pleasant thing to travel in Austria— that is, for a man 
of rank, or an officer on public service. Perhaps, for other 
people, it is not so pleasant. 

I, too, got an order for vorspann on application to the 
captain of police, at a little market town. He also gave me 
a gend'arme to accompany me, and see that I experienced 
no delay. " For," said he, " nothing can be done without a 



206 



PICTURES FROM 



gend'arme here." He was a polite, courteous gentleman, he 
spoke in perfect good faith and kindness, but I think he had 
little idea of the melancholy meaning of such words. 

The gend'arme is seated beside me in the carriage, and we 
are rolling along fast enough now ; we can therefore enter 
into conversation. 

" Oh yes," says the gend'arme, " we have a great deal to 
do here. There are a vast number of robberies, and we have 
some traveller's business still. The robbers go about in 
gangs, and the peasants are in league with them. They have 
recently shot sixteen of us who were sent to capture them. 
There are sometimes as many as twenty of these bandits 
together. 

a There is a famous robber in this immediate country. He 
was an honest man before the rauberation (an Austrian 
official name for revolution). Since then, his head has been 
quite turned, nobody will betray him. He was a judge for- 
merly, some fancied injustice has made a bandit of him. 

" We shot two of his gang the other day and brought them 
in as prisoners, but they were as obstinate as the peasants, 
nothing could be got out of them. 

" I am a Bohemian. No Roumans or people of the Banat 
are employed here ; if they get places, they are all sent else- 
where. 

" Oh, yes ! the country is in a very disturbed state, though 
not so bad as in Hungary and Croatia. We arrested a 
large landed proprietor the other day. I was sent to escort 
him to Vienna, where he was put in prison. By the other 
day, I mean a few months ago. Nobody has heard of him 
since, and his house is of course shut up and going to ruin ; 
so are his lands. We arrested him at night in bed. He 
had only returned home a few hours. He made no resist- 
ance, but only put his hand to his head and groaned. He 
had been pardoned once by our Lord Emperor, but nothing 
could keep him from meddling with the democrats, and he 
came back here, after a two years' absence in Turkey, only 
to fall into a trap we had laid for him. 

" We arrested also a lady last week, that is just four days 
ago. She was young, rich, high-born, an orphan heiress. 
She, too, had been mixing in politics. I went there with 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



207 



fourteen more of us. She appeared surprised to see us, and 
asked us, laughingly at first, if we were not ashamed to lay 
hands on a woman. Then she screamed and called her 
servants, but her steward had betrayed her, so we soon got 
her into a cart which we had brought, and she is now at 
Vienna also. 

" We have also lately arrested a Frenchman and a Hun- 
garian, who were found writing together. Oh, no, we don't 
joke with them when they play with pens and ink. We 
catch a great many fellows of this sort by the electric tele- 
graph. There is no outstripping that, and it is a great 
help to us. The peasants hate us with much cordiality. 
Sometimes they play us tricks, looking as stolid and serious 
all the time, that you would not think them able to do such 
things to save their lives. 

" A Wallach came to me one day, and said mysteriously, 
that he knew where Sanclor, the Hungarian democrat, was 
concealed. He appointed to meet me in the evening, and 
we had to cross the Theiss in a small boat to get to the 
place. The Wallach overturned the boat purposely on a 
dark winter's night. My comrade was drowned, but I 
escaped, to find that there was no Sandor nor anybody else to 
be seen on the opposite shore. They play all sorts of tricks, 

too, about the vorspann. When General was passing 

through here the other night, they pretended they had no 
horses, and brought him oxen." 

Then came a little touch, which reminded me of Russian 
Catherine and Potemkin. 

" Yes," said the gend'arme, musingly, in answer to a pre- 
vious observation of mine. " Yes, the houses are pretty 
good by the high roadside, in the villages they are wretched 
hovels. The state of morals among the country people is 
as bad as it can be. The priests here are of no account ; look 
at that one driving his own waggon, he is no better than 
any other peasant ; it is different in Bohemia.* They might 
be rich, but they will not ; they are stupid and apathetic about 
everything. 

" There are twenty regiments of gend'arme s in Austria, 
each is composed of 1,000 men. There is about to be 
another raised for service in Wallachia ; we must serve 



208 



PICTURES FROM" 



eight years in it, then we are allowed to go free. Nobody 
would serve if he could help it. It is a hateful service, and 
we get no pension. 

" You admire my pipe ? Yes (with a sigh). I am very 
proud of it ; it came from Bohemia. My sweetheart sent it 
me last Christmas twelvemonth ; she is married to the black- 
smith now." 



CHAPTER XLIX. 

The author expresses his delight in the passport system, and reveals 
its beauties. Temesvar. The author performs several popular and 
admired dances before the nobility of the Banat, as a delicate hint 
to the British Government as to his qualifications for high employ- 
ment. An Austrian officer states an amusing opinion as to the 
prospects of the present war. 

After all, there is some good in the passport system, and it 
is as well to acknowledge it, just as we would a trait of 
virtue in a highway robber. A passport enables a traveller 
at once to prove his identity, and the amount of considera- 
tion to which he is entitled. It enables him, indeed, to 
show that there is nothing wrong or questionable about 
himself or his business, an advantage sometimes of great 
importance to a stranger in an out-of-the-way place. 

I had not been in Temesvar, therefore, half an hour, 
when I received an invitation to a grand ball at the Casino, 
where half the nobility of the Banat were assembled ; and 
I thus had an opportunity of making acquaintance with a 
very agreeable and curious society, which I owed entirely to 
my passport. I also had some conversation with an Aus- 
trian officer, who interested me a good deal. 

"If we have war with the Russians," said he, gravely, 
" our position here will be a difficult one : they (the Rus- 
sians) have been spending millions intriguing with the 
Servians and the Wallachs. All the higher Greek clergy 
are Russians at heart. Austria is not free to act, indeed, 
hemmed in as she is by Russia on the one hand, and Prussia 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



209 



on the other ; menaced as she is, also, with internal disorders 
in all parts of her dominions. Then we, positively, have no 
money. We have, however, men ; so that perhaps you 
could help us, and we could then help you. You will find in 
the end that you will want a numerous auxiliary army, for 
we are on the eve of another thirty years' war. 

" Yet Austria wanted peace ; though it is said, indeed, that 
the ministers in Vienna find it difficult to hold the Emperor, 
who pants for military glory sadly. A year or two of quiet 
would have reorganized and tranquillized us. As yet, 
however, there are still hot heads plotting in many places to 
do mischief. 

" Your fault is, that your army has no chief. Canrobert, 
Raglan, and Bosquet can never all get on satisfactorily 
together. "What you want with an army is one will, — dicta- 
torial power, in short. Then your press is mischievous in 
military matters." 



CHAPTER L. 

Hungary. A village inn. A sleigh. A stranger. His instructive 
discourse and dangerous opinions. Mildness of a paternal 
government. 

It was a pretty house, with that clean and decent air about 
it, which reminds one so often of the homeland in Hungary. 
Indeed, if you shut your eyes for a moment, and then 
reopened them, it was difficult to fancy that you were not 
at a country public-house in England. The floor of the 
parlour was neatly sanded ; the walls were hung with little 
black family miniatures, which seemed to be so old, there 
was no remembering them ; beside, there were also sporting 
prints, chiefly relating to the subject of fox-hunting, which 
was a very popular amusement in Hungary before the 
revolution. 

I had discussed a very good veal cutlet, and was sipping 
some capital home-brewed ale, while the orderly was gone to 



210 



PICTURES FROM 



get up the vorspann, when a country sledge and pair gal- 
loped up to the door, and shortly afterwards its solitary 
occupant entered the room in which I was sitting and ordered 
dinner. 

In England it would have been, of course, my duty to take 
up a newspaper, even if I held it upside down, on the 
appearance of a stranger. Foreign manners, however, are 
luckily different, and as my pipe did not burn very satisfac- 
torily, the stranger courteously offered to refill it, 

" This is tobacco grown on my own lands," said he, " and 
I am anxious to have your opinion about it." 

He was a fine, hale, hearty man, with a fair beard and 
clear blue eye. Honesty and fearlessness seemed written on 
as frank and open a countenance as ever won upon you at 
first sight. 

We soon got into conversation, and before my horses were 
harnessed, we were loath to part. 
" You are alone," said I. 

" Yes," he answered ; " but there is room for two. Will 
you join me as far as the next village, where you will have 
to change horses 1 I live there, and we shall go faster than 
your heavy carriage, which can follow us ; beside, sledging is 
pleasanter than wheels this weather." 

When we had driven away from the little inn, and were 
out of all chance of spying and eavesdropping, my new 
acquaintance turned to me with a sort of hungry hope in his 
countenance, and asked abruptly, " Well, what chance is 
there for us % " # 

I would have turned the conversation, but he went on, 
with a deep sigh : " Ah, things are very bad here," he rather 
groaned than said ; " we are being ground to dust — arrests, 
hangings, shootings, floggings, are still going on here. Every 
one is running away who can do so. I should have gone 
out-land also, but for my wife and large family. It is mad- 
ness for me to speak to you — a stranger — so boldly as I do ; 
but you are an Englishman, so I know that I am safe. We 
are spied everywhere : we are not safe from the police in 
our own homes, by our fire-sides, or in bed even. We 
had lately some emissaries from the liberals among us. 
The police got scent of this, and pursued them ; but we 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



211 



were all true, and they escaped. The people love Kossuth ; 
the nobles and landowners do not ; yet they lost nothing by 
the revolution, and their estates are more valuable than be- 
fore. The abolition of the corvee was really little felt by the 
landlords. 

" Hungary is ill defended, the fortresses are ill kept. The 
regiments here are composed chiefly of Italians and Poles, 
who are disaffected to a man. Even the Bohemians could 
not be relied on by the Emperor in another struggle. JSTo 
Hungarian is employed in any public department in Hun- 
gary, or would dare accept office under the Austrians, under 
penalty of being generally degraded in the estimation of his 
countrymen, and shunned by them. The few exceptions are 
most utterly despised. 

" We are in real righteous earnest in our determination to 
throw off the yoke of Austria. "We hope ever that the 
time of our liberation from our wretched bondage is drawing 
nearer ; when it comes, we shall be ready. The present state 
of things cannot endure. God has hardened the hearts of 
our tyrants, that their ruin may be more complete. 

" The state of the law here is melancholy to think about ; 
no branch of it displays the smallest activity except the police. 
A suit on the smallest affair often lasts for years. The tribu- 
nals will not give decisions till they have been bribed ; and 
abuses exist, which will exist in all countries where it is 
forbidden to expose them. 

" The chilling influence of Austria is everywhere. Educa- 
tion is falling off. We will not send our children to schools 
where they only learn impious praises of despotism and the 
Emperor. 

" Our servitude is cruel. We cannot dance, fiddle, be born, 
or marry, without permission. Our very songs and amuse- 
ments are regulated, and only allowed at stated times. 
Three or four of us cannot meet together at dinner but 
there will be a spy sent to watch. We are afraid of our 
own shadows. We cannot trust our own wives, for a word 
spoken in mere carelessness or gossip may send us to a felon's 
gaol, or consign us at once to an infamous death. But we 
are getting very stubborn and sulky ; if we get the upper 
hand again, we shall be terrible. Oh ! if you knew how we 

p 2 



212 



pictures from: 



love the very name of free England, and stretch our im- 
ploring arms to her." 

There was a terrible earnestness about the man — a kind of 
famished hope, as I have said. I can hardly describe it, but 
it affected me very strongly. He seemed a man above the 
middle rank of life, perhaps a landholder in good circum- 
stances ; for he was well acquainted with agricultural affairs. 
He said the war had affected the price of grain and provisions 
in Hungary a little, but not much. It cost about twenty 
English pounds a year to keep a horse in food only. 



CHAPTER LI. 

The author expresses his delight in Mr. Boggleton, her Majesty's 
extraordinary envoy at the court of Schwartz-Wurst-Schinkens- 
hausen. The honourable Isaac Boggleton founds the courtly family 
of Blunderbore. Popular idea of a Tory. The Boggleton family. 
Lord Catynynetayle and the Hon. Sholto Boggleton. Their 
success in life. Amiable character of the Hon. Sholto. He 
acquires the support of the Whigs, and becomes the pride and 
delight of the Foreign Office. 

Vulgar people could never be brought to understand why 
Mr. Boggleton represented Great Britain at the court of 
Schwartz-Wurst-Schinkenshaitsen, or what he did there. 
Persons in high life, however, knew very well that Boggleton 
was the family name of the Earls of Blunderbore. This 
answered the first part of the question intelligibly enough ; 
while as for his duties, their name was legion, as will be 
explained by-and-by. 

The first Earl of Blunderbore had received his peerage for 
the patriotic and energetic assistance he had rendered to a 
Tory government, which had remained in power precisely one 
month and three days. It had had the usual respect of Tory 
governments for ready-made reputations, the usual ungenerous 
neglect of its own friends : so it bought old Sir Isaac Bog- 
gleton, who was perfectly prepared to rat for a peerage., and 
did so with the utmost cheerfulness. To be sure, they disap- 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



213 



pointed four of their thickest-headed and most consistent 
supporters; but, after all, Boggleton was worth his price. He 
was a brazen-faced old fellow, who stood up for them with 
such coolness and intrepidity ; who so brow-beat common 
sense, and laughed it to scorn, that their tenure of office had 
been prolonged more than a fortnight beyond the term which 
had appeared possible, and there had very nearly occurred 
a riot in the streets of London in consequence. 

It was natural that the Tories should feel a high respect 
for the Earl of Blunderbore, after such distinguished services. 
He was almost the only man of ability who had anything to 
do with them. He was more— he was a convert ! It was 
right that they should make a good deal of him \ it was 
decent ; and for a wonder they did so. The old gentleman, 
therefore, passed the evening of his days very agreeably 
among other old gentlemen whose business it was to be 
Tories, who had so much of what they ought not to have had, 
that it would have been highly imprudent in them to be 
anything else. Among snug bear-leaders who had lent 
money to their cubs when the old lord would send no more 
drafts to Naples or Vienna, and who had ripened into unre- 
formed bishops in consequence ; among collateral heirs who 
had succeeded to entailed estates in spite of creditors and 
orphan daughters ; among persons whose origin was so base 
and whose wealth was so great that they were obliged to 
turn Tories in self-defence ; among elderly ladies who had 
had Tory placemen for husbands, and enjoyed convenient 
pensions payable every quarter-day in consequence ; among 
enthusiastic young ladies, whose heads were turned by Sir 
Walter Scott's novels ; and in short, among that comfortable 
class of people of whom the Tory party is exclusively made 
up : persons of whom one could never think without being 
reminded of an answer given by the Prince de Conde to some 
one who reproached him with being an aristocrat — " It is 
my trade," said the light-hearted Frenchman ; " you also 
would be an aristocrat if you were Prince of Conde. 57 When 
therefore the bran new Earl of Blunderbore married, and it 
was said that he begat two sons, the eyes of the world generally 
were supposed to be turned upon those two sons. They were 
regarded by mankind as among the ornaments of the earth * 



214 



PICTURES FPwOM 



they were supposed to be born legislators and statesmen ; to 
belong to the only class which possesses the governing bump, 
or any other bump worth having. They did not disappoint 
the expectations which the human race had formed of them. 
The elder son, Lord Catynynetayle, managed the regiment 
which he obtained, before meaner men get their captaincies, 
in such a manner that everybody who had not a handle to 
his name was very speedily managed out of it. The members 
of the regiment also managed themselves in such a manner 
as to figure very frequently in the daily papers under the 
reports of proceedings in the Insolvent Debtors Court ; 
which of course showed a fine feeling of respect for the laws 
of their country, and delighted everybody. Let an awed 
and thankful public only fancy the condescension of gentle- 
men with handles to their names, deigning to answer the 
questions of a vulgar insolvent commissioner, without order- 
ing him to be put to death. There was a lesson for the 
court of Schwartz-Wurst-Schinkenskausen, and the absolute 
governments ! Here was progress I And the Tories pointed 
to it triumphantly as the only instance of progress which had 
taken place among them since the turbulent barons of the 
Henries had marched against their creditors sword in hand. 
In order that this lesson might be fully impressed on the 
court of Schwartz-Wurst-Sckinkenshausen, and in order that 
this court or any other court (this was a Tory phrase for in- 
dicating foreign nations) might for the future understand that 
the English were an enlightened and progressive people, Mr. 
Sholto Boggleton was appointed as one of the representatives 
of Great Britain and its dependencies. A Tory government 
was indeed deprived of the pleasure of nominating him, 
because at that period such a curiosity as a Tory government 
had not been seen in Britain for some time. Mr. Boggleton 
was appointed by a government which went by the name of 
liberal, and therefore took every occasion to show its respect 
for the institution of aristocracy, and many other institutions 
equally fusty and wonderful. 

There were at that time some thousands of bright men in 
England who would have filled the post given to the 
Hon. Sholto Boggleton in such a manner as to have enshrined 
the name of their country for years in the grateful remem- 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



215 



brance of tlie people among whom they dwelt ; who would 
have made themselves of unknown utility to their own land ; 
who would have softened international jealousies, explained 
away mischievous errors and misunderstandings ; who would 
have made peace fruitful of mutual good offices, and wars 
impossible ; who would have shown what a real blessing 
diplomacy might be made between states ; what kindly 
feelings and pleasant intercourse it might create ; how it 
might dispel the fogs of ignorance, and guide the nations of 
the earth nearer to each other. Such men, however, were 
mostly scholars, book-writers, speechifiers, and other low 
people. They were not the second sons of Earls Blunder- 
bore, and they had not the diplomatic bump accordingly. 

The Hon. Sholto Boggleton had the diplomatic bump, and 
a very remarkable bump it was. He was the most pig- 
headed man in his profession, and therefore the pride and 
delight of the Foreign Office. He was aggravating and ill- 
tempered beyond what could be supposed possible. It was 
dangerous to ask him how he was, lest he should suppose 
you had heard he was failing, and bear you a grudge to the 
end of his days. He was a man who hoarded up grudges, 
and kept them warm, — he would not have parted with one 
on any account. In general, he despised all the world which 
did not belong to the family of the Earls of Blunderbore, whom 
it was now to be understood descended from somebody who 
ought to have been king of Scotland, but was not. All 
other earls were leather and prunella to the Earls of Blun- 
derbore. Still they might be endured at " one's table." But 
if a commoner, whose name was ringing from one end of 
Europe to the other, as one of the foremost men of his age 
and country, had dared to leave a card on Mr. Boggleton, 
under the absurd impression that he had a right to his 
(Mr. Boggleton s) services and good will, it is extremely pro- 
bable his (Mr. Boggleton's) porter would have declined to 
take such card in at the door. All I can say is, that woe 
betide that porter if he were to venture to disturb Mr. Bog- 
gleton while making extracts from the newspapers to send 
home in such a case ! It is probable, in this event, that one 
of Mr. Boggleton's back teeth would have been found next 
day at an immense distance, he, Mr. Boggleton, having 



216 



PICTURES FRCttl 



exploded with surprise and rage. The man wrangled with 
everybody. He was what Lord Bacon calls a * poser. 1 ' He 
was ignorant to a degree that was quite laughable ; yet he 
would ask questions which would puzzle the wisest. When 
they were not answered, he wrote home by special mes- 
senger to say things were going wrong, and he added a 
private note for Mr. Huffey, of the Foreign Office. He 
wrangled with the court of Schwartz- Wurst-Schinkenskausen 
because he was not asked to dinner often enough, till every 
person connected with that court, from the lord high taker- 
off of the boots downwards, grew fidgety at the very name 
of an Englishman, and wished the whole race at Jericho. 
They thought us, with reason, a wearisome peojile, for they 
judged us by Mr. Boggleton. He spied upon the royal 
family, so that the very house-servants were not free from 
his posers ; and he watched for the lacqueys in the street to 
ask questions. This was one of his ideas of diplomacy. But 
the strong point of Mr. Boggleton was his suspicion : sus- 
picion was his forte. It was another of his ideas of diplo- 
macy to suspect everybody. When he asked people how 
they did, he looked as if he wanted one of their teeth. If 
they answered, " Yery well, I thank you, Mr. Boggleton," 
he was down upon them with an " Oh ! because yesterday 
you said you were not so well." 

This signified that the person addressed was not a Boggleton, 
that he was therefore likely to deceive the British lion as to 
the state of his health, and that he had deceived him. The 
British lion immediately wrote home these facts by special 
messenger accordingly. The man's life must have been as 
great a bore to himself as it was to other people. The 
awful creak of his shoes put everybody to flight who could 
get out of his way, except the wits, who stopped to roast 
him ; and never was there a man who writhed under a 
roasting like Mr. Boggleton. All the good stories which 
had been current for fifteen years at Schwartz-Wurst-Schin- 
kenshausen had something to do with him. 

Ladies' albums swarmed with caricatures of him. Ribald 
attaches mimicked and made burlesque songs about him. Even 
his own staff were ashamed to dine with him, or be seen 
with him off duty. They were mere ciphers; but they 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



217 



were not so intensely stupid as their chief, and they 
knew it. 

Yet the Hon. Mr. Boggleton was a mighty man in his 
way. He wrote " The British Minister" on his cards, in 
such large letters, that people almost thought there must be 
something in them : that they signified, or ought to signify, 
a man eminent in some way, courtly if not wise, a wit if not 
a statesman. Knowing of what nonsense diplomacy has 
been hitherto made up, they would not be entitled to 
expect more, nor would they, if sensible people. If they 
expected this, however, they would be monstrously disap- 
pointed. 

" The British Minister'" had the appearance of a butcher, 
and the manners of a footman. At court he was full of 
absurd, almost impudent cringing (which was another of his 
ideas of diplomacy), elsewhere he was the official snob per- 
sonified. Those who know the British diplomatic service well, 
have seen and heard of whole generations of Boggletons and 
Blunderbores. If it were otherwise, we should not now be 
squabbling in the Black Sea or the Baltic, and on evil terms 
with nearly half the world, on all occasions. It is not sur- 
prising. We have intrusted the interests of a hundred 
millions of people, and the empire on which the sun never 
sets, almost entirely to Boggletons and Blunderbores. The 
result was natural, and is of course extremely edifying. 



CHAPTEK LII. 

The author reflects that British statesmanship, properly considered, is 
a handicraft. He explains how he has arrived at this conclusion. 
He suggests the employment of a few cheap thinkers. The last 
finishing graces of office. 

I asked myself pensively, as I went upon my way, whether 
modern diplomacy and statesmanship, as understood in 
Britain, is not really a handicraft. To the earnest inquirer, 
who goes fairly into the subject, it would appear to consist 
almost entirely in easy manual labour, better paid, though 



218 



PICTURES FECOI 



seldom, save in cases of fabricating wars and tumults, so pro- 
ductive as muscular exertion of other kinds. 

To be a successful public man among the Britons, it is 
necessary to cultivate betimes the art of writing — u On her 
Majesty's service," and, I have the honour to be, with the 
highest respect, my lord, your lordship's most obrdient 
humble servant." to the Eight Honourable the Earl Grey, 
ilinto. St. Germans,. Russell, Wood, or such other conde- 
scending scions of those noble families who may deign, from 
time to time, to rule over us. Sometimes it may be neces- 
sary to insert the word " sir,*' instead of " my lord ; " but this 
will hardly interfere with our previous proposition, because 
the statesman who has once acquired the art of writing an 
imposing crucial Land without Flourishes might have an 
official remembrancer, or other cheap thoughtful mam to 
remind him of this trivial difference, whenever it should be 
rendered temporarily necessary by unavoidable alterations 
or changes in the arrangements of these noble governing 
families. In the Ftr-rign Office, it will also be necessary to 
learn the right offciaf formation of every letter in the 
following despatch, of which originals executed on the very 
best pattern may be obtained at all the family embassies and 
legations. This despatch is indeed of such constant usage, 
so honoured, both in the transmission and reception, so curt 
yet so courteous, that no apology is offered for giving it 
entire. 



"My Lo 
your lordsh: 



c etiquette ran 
urst-Schinkensh 
.1 estv s Governn 



I have the honour to acknowledge 
your Excellency's) despatch, and to 
•provaJ of her ^Majesty's Government 
have pursued relative to the question 
sed bv vou with the Court of 



wever, do not think it 
s important subjects to 



I have. 



y executed treatise like the present, in which 
to lav down rulrs which mav be considered a 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



219 



standard authority on most points, it is impossible to pass 
over several of the other more important duties which it 
will be ever necessary for the conscientious, true British 
statesman to master thoroughly, as long as Britannia rules 
the waves, and the noble families of Grey, Elliott, and 
Russell, rule Britannia. We do not say that they are 
necessary as a title to office. The enlightened patronage 
which presides over the destinies of our country has too 
pure and lofty a scorn of qualifications to allow the bliss of 
ignorance to bar promotion in public life. They act piously 
on that Christian principle which saith, " To him who hath 
much shall be given, and to him who hath not, that little 
which he hath shall be taken away." But there are considera- 
tions by which a patriotic cousinocracy will be influenced, 
although they are never uncourteously or obtrusively forced 
upon them. 

"We feel a proud conviction that every Grey, Elliott, and 
Russell, will not disappoint those well-founded expectations 
that Britain has long entertained. That they will ever do 
their duty firmly, in presenting themselves with the exactest 
punctuality to receive their salaries and write the official 
receipt, according to the form made and provided in such cases. 

It is unnecessary, also, to do more than remind every 
noble family official, that it may be laid down as an absolute 
rule, that he will be required to possess due cunning in the 
difficult craft of folding neatly, and docketing despatches in 
a straight- line. The words of the docket will be found in 
the first lines of the despatch. He should also know how 
to open a despatch, and put it together again with its 
in closures. 

He should give long and careful study to the art of making 
an ordinary and a flying seal a beautiful and sublime official 
mystery ; — signing appointments, unbonneting to deputations, 
eating dinners, and drinking healths, with the proper mode of 
holding the knife, fork, and glass, in order to make a fitting 
impression on the common and popular ; — sketching carica- 
tures, and twiddling the thumbs with proper indifference at 
a cabinet council ; — taking a cigar gracefully out of the 
mouth, to reply with necessary gravity to any absurd special 
person asking for employment ; — the buttoning of official 



220 



PICTURES FROM 



uniforms according to the last tailoring regulation \ — ac- 
quiring the true art of raising the fore- finger of the right 
hand to menace a feeble minister in a manner duly imposing, 
and to learn the real fiddlededee spreading out of the palms 
to express becoming awe and reverence of a strong one. 

All these are among the duties of a conscientious British 
statesman ; and though a deferential nation does not presume 
to insinuate that any member of the governing families 
should be perfect in them all, perhaps she will not be asking 
too much of their long-tried affection for her offices, that 
they may sometimes be not altogether unwilling to display 
a few of them ; not as a right which she is so arrogant as to 
claim, but merely for her delectation, and to keep her per- 
petual admiration of the families at the right pitch of enthu- 
siasm. 

We have named but a few of the arduous manual duties 
of British envoys at foreign courts, and their more august 
masters at home, and we trust an unreflecting public will 
not suppose that they are merely confined even to the 
severe labour we have already described. Graceful and en- 
ergetic fiddling, especially over the downfall of the liberal 
minister who appointed you, may please his personal enemies 
at the court to which you are accredited ; it will delight his 
political opponents in your own country ; it will make you 
a party among his courtly adversaries ; and therefore, by stu- 
dents of the higher arts of diplomacy, as one which will en- 
able them to figure advantageously at European congresses 
and the like, the valuable art of diplomatic fiddling should 
never be forgotten. 

To curl the hair in lovelocks languishingly, to receive a 
petition without flinging it in the face of the idiotic appli- 
cant, to consign it to endless consideration in the strong box 
of oblivion with sufficient celerity, to copy extracts from 
newspapers, to transmit them home with ideas culled from 
the last leading article thereto referring, to copy the paid 
abuse of some hireling pamphleteer about the press in private 
letters to official friends ; these, and many more, are also 
to be considered as belonging, though not so necessarily as 
those formerly mentioned, to the onerous toils of British 
statesmanship at home and abroad. But it must be owned 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



221 



that they are only the last finishing graces of the accom- 
plished — the glories of red tape incarnate and made perfect ; 
and to all who really possess the right family connection, 
they may be indeed elegant and useful, but they are not 
necessary. 



CHAPTER LITI. 

The journey ends. Sensation at Bodenback. The art of pumping. 
Saxon Switzerland. The author describes the scenery on the road 
in a lively and agreeable manner, and arrives at Dover in the 
character of a troubadour. 

My journey is drawing to a close. At Szegedin I reached 
the railroad, and the toils and difficulties of my journey, the 
strange and racy interest of it, was over. 

At Bodenback I perceived that my bearskin cloak, my 
cap and boots, began to attract attention, and I was pounced 
upon and pumped, with various degrees of ability, as a new 
arrival from the seat of war. Here, also, I first noticed a 
marked change of climate, though the snow still lay on the 
ground like a fairy mantle, and the fir trees and lovely heights 
of Saxon Switzerland glittered with a thousand pearls, 
placed there by the royal hand of the lavish frost — a guerdon 
of the winter king. The long sparkling drops of pure, pure 
ice hung down from cliff and precipice in variegated beauty, 
glowing with a thousand colours, as the sunset shone on them, 
till they looked like the wondrous magical tracery of some 
enchanted palace. 

So away, away past storied Prague, where dwelt brave 
Wallenstein, whom Schiller sang ; by artist Dresden, and 
Leipsic the bookish, and by dull Magdeburg ; away from 
bluff bachelor Brunswick, and the quaint courtly city of 
Hanover, by Minden's bloody plain, to the dark towers and 
steeples of Cologne, more numerous than the days of the 
year. The shrine of the fabulous three kings is here, the 
grave of the fairest of the Medici ; but I linger not, and the 
eleven thousand virgins call in vain from their cold graves. 



222 



PICTURES FROM 



I once might have dropped a tear at their story — the young, 
the beautiful, the pious — but now it would freeze upon my 
cheek. 

On speeds the train, looking in the grey wintry air like 
the car of Erebus, bearing off the souls of the damned. 
Towns and villages flit by us fast. On the right lies pleasant 
Aachen and the tomb of Charlemagne ; dyspepsia gives it 
many pilgrims. In passing, one may wonder ruefully that 
Europe was ever one great empire, or ceased to be so. 
Next we come to Yerviers, of many looms ; it is the frontier 
town of Belgium, and our luggage is examined amid stormy 
remonstrances and Belgian phlegm. 

Again the engine groans and hisses ; we are in the Low 
Countries, thinking of Louis XIY. and Marlborough, remem- 
bering stories of fine old Dutch admirals, and the patriots 
who bearded Spain ; also of Egmont and Horn, and the 
bloody Duke of Alva. There was once a time, too, we 
remember, when the young and high-hearted of our own 
land, the Cavaliers and Jacobites, sought Fortune, and 
found her among the marshes and canals, and in the pictu- 
resque old cities of these glorious lowlands : glorious, because 
they have been the field of some of the greatest events of 
European history, and because they were the cradle of so 
much that is beautiful in art and useful in commerce. The 
memories of daring deeds are busy within me as the train 
hurries on parallel with the border fortress of Maestricht. 
But now we come upon the clanging forges, and many lights 
of Liege : so fancy shifts the scene also. This is the town 
which was beleaguered by Charles, the bold Duke of Bur- 
gundy, and corrupted by the crafty Louis XL There fought 
William de la Marck, the wild boar of Ardennes, to whose 
other crimes Scott has added the murder of the Prince 
Bishop, of which he was guiltless. Quentin Durward here, 
with bluff Crevecceur and the fair St. Croix, flit like shadows 
before us. 

And then we are at sweet Louvain, rich, also, of its re- 
nown in the middle ages. It is now but a shadow ; yet the 
town-hall is the marvel of all Belgium, and so is its famous 
beer. 

On, on, through Brussels, the mimic and factious Ghent. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



223 



"With Malines conies the vision of revel, and bright dames in 
delicate array ; we see the dance, we hear the strain, we 
breathe the scented air : but all fade away as we reach 
gloomy Ostend, with its population of debtors and outlaws, 
its sanctuary for pigs.* 

It is eleven o'clock, and the Dover mail starts in an hour. 
Seventeen more, tossed on the stormy waters, bring the 
white cliffs of England in sight ; and mistily they rise against 
the winter sky. 

Now I write from the " Ship," at Dover, where they take 
the stranger in. The sea-coal fire burns cheerfully in its 
ample grate, and the winds shout their loud and wild huzzah 
without, like Titans rejoicing ; and I have written a book, 
as you know. The advertisements, in letters an inch long, 
stare at me from every paper ; and, behold, I am arraigned 
for trial at the bar of public opinion — the judgment dread- 
ing, yet hoping. But why tarry the wheels of my chariot ? 
They must not tarry long ; straining eyes are watching for 
me — 

" And the wine-cup shall run over and the fatted calf be slain, 
And the welkin ring with laugh and song when love meets love again." 

YODERL. 

And now, sweet queen of gentle reign, 

Across the blustering wave 
Thy lover's speeding home again, 

A monarch and a slave. 
Hoist high the flag, call out the guard, 

And I'll salute thee then, 
The queen her faithful liege regard, 

The king greet his again. 

Thou giv'st me nought of golden store, 

No knighthood and no gem, 
And I can offer thee no more 

Than love's fair diadem. 
Yet what a royalty is ours, 

From vulgar sway apart, 
There's oft not in a kaiser's powers 

The sweet rule o'er a heart. 



* There is an old law at Ostend which forbids pigs to be killed 
within the precincts of the town. 



224 



PICTURES FROM 



CHAPTER LIV. 

The author expresses a patriotic joy at having been allowed by obliging 
circumstances to return to his country. He comments on the 
freedom and glory of our institutions, and expresses his heartfelt 
satisfaction at the state of affairs generally. He alludes to his well- 
bred interest in the fashionable announcements of the morning 
papers. He undertakes the defence of the Foreign Office from the 
interested attacks of venal and designing persons. He expresses 
a generous delight in official amusements. He discreetly praises 
the Foreign Office clerks, and commends their useful attention to 
the honourable and lucrative pursuits of commerce, by which this 
country has gradually grown so rich and great. He describes them 
as taking rank among the great merchant princes of the land. The 
author cites a prudent rule established by our wise men, and defends 
himself from the imputation of deserting his unfortunate subject by 
explaining that many of our battles have been recently fought upon 
foolscap, very hot-pressed indeed. 

Having now returned to my loftily-situated home in this 
free and enlightened country, I am bound to express my 
grave and solemn sense of obligation to the obliging circum- 
stances which have conducted me hither. I feel grateful 
even to the Varna packet, also to the Bulgarian post-boys. 
I feel grateful to that true British sailor Admiral Boxer, 
who did not cause me to be arrested in the Black Sea and 
conveyed to the nearest station-house. I am grateful to the 
Austrian army of occupation, which did not swallow me up, 
or draw and quarter me in the Principalities. I feel deeply 
obliged, and ever shall, to the Hungarian post-boys, also to 
the authorities and the policemen I met so frequently after 
paying my fare at Szegedin. I desire to express my delight 
in the landlords of the various hotels who kindly took me 
in on the road. I wish to thank the captain of the channel 
packet, with proper energy and good feeling, for his admira- 
ble arrangements on board his ship. I would convey my 
appreciation of the delicate conduct of the railway porters at 
the Dover station ; also of those at London Bridge. I was 
much gratified by the true politeness of the individual in the 
pigeon-hole, who was so good as to receive my fare. I shall 
always feel a pardonable British pride in the swift and pru- 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



225 



dent cabman, who displayed such admirable energy at the 
door of my lodgings. I am, indeed, generally sensible of a 
feeling of intense satisfaction when I reflect upon any of the 
admirable institutions of the glorious and happy nation to 
which I have the honour to belong. I desire emphati- 
1 cally to express my ardent satisfaction at the state of affairs 
generally. My very soul is wrapt in a kind of agreeable 
ecstasy, so to speak ; and I would laugh aloud in the joy of 
my heart, if I had not recently ascertained that it would be 
a breach of the laws of polite society so to do. 

In the process of endeavouring to analyse the reasons of 
the delight I am experiencing at the present pleasurable 
state of our affairs, my attention is at once directed by a 
sort of happy and amiable instinct to that immortal monu- 
ment of national wisdom, our wise, efficient, and thoroughly 
British Foreign Office. 

All persons who devote a becoming and well-bred atten- 
tion to that deeply interesting portion of our newspapers, 
which records the notices of polite entertainments among the 
aristocracy, cannot, I virtuously trust, have failed to observe 
with a glow of polite enthusiasm, that the gentlemen of the 
Foreign Office have handsomely condescended to take ad- 
vantage of the present happy crisis in our affairs, as a fit and 
favourable opportunity to gratify the British with a display 
of their brilliant abilities as clowns and pantaloons, in very 
spirited and well-acted pantomimes. 

Xothing can appear to a well- disciplined mind so reason- 
able as the gaiety of our official aristocracy. Whether we 
consider the vivacity of the Foreign Office as a generous 
ebullition of elderly youth and high spirits ; whether we 
ascribe it to the pleasurable feelings which must naturally 
suggest themselves, when they reflect on the amazing height 
of their connections ; whether we consider the reasonable 
lightness of their hearts, or the weight of their richly em- 
broidered purses, our respectful admiration of them will be 
in no way diminished. We cannot be otherwise than defe- 
rentially delighted that they should nobly have agreed to 
display their charming vivacity in a manner so generally 
amusing. They have, indeed, afforded an illustration of our 
favourite theory, that the right men should be put in the 

Q 



226 



PICTURES FROM 



right places, which we cannot contemplate without being 
filled with a serene and overflowing happiness. 

We feel, indeed, as all properly-constituted persons must, 
such a calm, sweet sense of personal gratitude towards them, 
that we cannot consider, without utter abhorrence, those 
vile and abject individuals who decline to share our ennobling 
raptures. 

If the proceedings of these prides of their country (and 
friends) should rouse the bile of those dull, ignorant, nnd 
prejudiced people who do not readily understand a joke, 
who suppose, with troublesome wrong-headedness, that the 
ornaments of our Foreign Office (and nation) are paid for other 
duties than to create a healthy hilarity in the public mind, 
and to indulge the world with the performance of panto- 
mimes ; if any should be so wicked and vexatious, as to 
assert that the Foreign Office is hardly at this moment in a 
state to make a public jubilee among its members quite 
graceful ; if any should insolently object that it would have 
been more decent to evidence those charitable feelings they 
have put forward as a pretext for their interesting little 
gambols, in some less public and ostentatious manner; we 
trust that such low and soured persons, having been previ- 
ously overwhelmed with general contempt and indignation 
throughout the country, will be sternly exhorted to reflect, 
that in a great mercantile nation like ours, where wealth 
is ever attended with such decorous adulation, it happens 
with sufficient frequency to have passed into a general rule, 
that those who have heavy pockets have necessarily light 
hearts. The cheerful class of the community, now under 
consideration, have heavy pockets, very heavy pockets. They 
belong to the established respectabilities, the great merchant 
princes of the country, and theirs is a very good business. 
Mr. Davis, the tailor, takes off his hat to them, as among his 
safest customers, and Mr. Hoby opens the folding-doors of his 
shop with due veneration when they pass in and out. 

Their hours of business, indeed, are chiefly spent in earnest 
and exclusive attention to the lucrative and important duties 
of bankers and monopolists, and the result, as may be sup- 
posed, is most enlivening to their spirits. 

It must not be vulgarly assumed that the ridiculously in- 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



227 



adequate salaries set clown in deceptive official returns are 
the only profits derived by these noblemen and gentlemen 
from their highly convenient appointments ; or that the 
paltry sum doled out to them by absurd and tardy quarterly 
payments, is the only reward they receive for their prudent 
habits of business and for their judicious and arduous atten- 
tion to their own interests. They have indeed a proper, true 
British official contempt for the ordinary pursuits of trade 
and all thereto belonging, and look benignly only on those 
vast and satisfactory operations in which they condescend 
personally to take part. Theirs is far too good a business to 
enable the most scurrilous public to fix upon them the vile 
stigma of petty trading. So good is it, indeed, that their most 
cautious relatives will agree that it is quite right they should 
enjoy as much leisure as they have a mind to indulge, seeing 
that they can so well afford to do so. 

The whole amount of that magnificent item which we are 
so proud to see figuring every year in the Budget, as a provi- 
sion for our excellent diplomacy and consular 'service, passes 
through the delicate hands of this well-endowed and noble 
corporation \ and it usually remains there with a lingering 
fondness for the elegant purses of " the family" which is such 
a praiseworthy aristocratic characteristic of all public money. 
The most awful, dignified, and high-born ambassador, the 
most insignificant and forgotten vice-consul, are equally 
obliged to submit to the wise and sound commercial prin- 
ciples established by these shrewd and gifted officials. Every 
individual who has the happiness of being employed by the 
Foreign Office must pay a handsome per-centage on his salary, 
in order that it may be sanctified and blessed by remaining 
in the hands of the close and noble corporation above 
described. 

Every man- jack who fructifies in the most distant countries 
under the benign dominion of the Foreign Office, is wisely 
compelled by an established custom it would be richly de- 
served ruin to oppose, to commission some magnate of the 
home establishment as his agent, and to commit the fat 
quarterly fruit of his earnings to the keeping of that good 
and kind official, so long as he may be graciously pleased to 
retain it for his own purposes. It would be the height of 

Q 2 



228 



PICTURES FROM 



blackguard impertinence to require a noble Foreign Office 
magnate to give security, so that if be died, or otherwise 
departed official life, bis involuntary customer bas constantly 
the proud prospect open to bim of some day being able to 
benefit a great mans heirs to the best of bis bumble ability. 
It would not only be very rude to press even for accounts, 
but it would be very impolitic. Noblemen and gentlemen 
of wealth and substance are naturally prejudiced against all 
persons in difficulties ; and to draw a salary with inconvenient 
regularity, would be certain to incur their contempt and 
abhorrence. They would justly consider that the affairs of 
" the fellow" who did so must be in a precarious state, and 
they would be very properly prepared to think many things 
to his disadvantage. They who benevolently bold the keys of 
promotion will take considerate care to give no early notice 
of snug vacancies either to such a suspicious personage or 
bis troublesome and pertinacious kindred. They will make 
and take every opportunity of giving currency to ingenious 
slanders about him. They will smile in concert at his claims 
with judicious and caustic raillery. 

On the contrary, they are filled with overflowing sympathy 
and generous kindness for the excellent officer who allows his 
salary to accumulate in the hands of his mollified agent ; and 
assuredly that agent will allow no opportunity to go by for 
increasing his own income by furthering his client's interests. 

Some affect in g little stories of this touching devotion to 
the main chance in agents have reached our ears, and prove 
that agents are not ungrateful to those who truly respect 
their banking business. If there is one thing in the world 
that they admire and esteem more than another, it is self- 
denial in a client, for the benefit of a hi^hlv-connected a^ent. 
I venture to cite a few instances of high-souled virtue in. 
agents, and I ardently hope the public will peruse them with 
the same exquisite sensations I experienced on being first 
made acquainted with them. 

A certain diplomatist, with great powers of reasoning and 
deduction, allowed his salary to remain in the hands of his 
agent till it reached the tempting and beautiful sum of 
<£8,000. Suddenly the diplomatist swept down with a bill of 
exchange for the w T hole. His agent was evidently impressed 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



229 



by conduct so vigorous and unexpected. He had not heard 
from his client's bankers for many years. His intercourse 
with the diplomatist had been entirely confined to three- 
cornered notes from his sister (a lady in the highest society), 
and invitations to Greenwich dinners from the diplomatist's 
brother, a shrewd Caledonian thane, who was by no means 
accustomed to waste his money. Yet, now all at once an 
imperative banker turned up with an impetuosity that was 
quite disagreeable, while the Caledonian thane and the 
diplomatist's sister (in the best society) were not even in 
London. It was observed by the under-butler of our agent, 
that on the morning after he had received the communica- 
tion of the diplomatist's bankers, he unaccountably neglected 
the cutlets (en papillate) which had been provided him for 
breakfast. 

He rallied, however, a few hours afterwards, and partook 
of lunch with much appetite, though somewhat later than 
usual, having been closeted for some time with one of the 
ministers. A week or two afterwards it appeared to all 
men, and especially to the bankers of the diplomatist, that 
his calculations had been founded on the most unerring 
principles, and the paltry draft for £8,000 was delicately 
returned to him under the same envelope with the Gazette 
which recorded his promotion as envoy extraordinary and 
minister plenipotentiary at a delightful post, which was 
then vacant. It need scarcely be added also, that he ever 
afterwards obtained the earliest Foreign Office intelligence 
for the benefit of himself and his connections. 

Once upon a time there was also a certain paid attache. 
He prudently left his salary likewise in the hands of his 
agent for a year and a half, then suddenly he drew for it. 
The sum was not large, — between three and four hundred 
pounds ; but it is a remarkable and very creditable coinci- 
dence, that he was promoted immediately afterwards, and 
ever after lived in such harmony with the Foreign Office, 
that he continued to pursue a plan which has been attended 
with success in so many instances, and thus prospered 
exceedingly. 

There was another far-sighted man, who used to say that 
he considered it always better to borrow money at fifteen 



230 



PICTURES FROM 



per cent., rather than presume to trouble the Foreign Office 
by asking for his accounts. He was an obscure vice-consul 
then ; but his judgment and perspicacity met its due reward, 
and in consequence of these proper and gentlemanly senti- 
ments he nourished bravely afterwards. 

Therefore, among the institutions of my country, which I 
contemplate with most respect and veneration, is our excel- 
lent Foreign Office. I look upon it as one of the oldest 
established shops in London. I rejoice at the celerity and 
exactitude it displays in performance of the most trumpery 
job, as well as the greatest ; and I desire to publish the 
expression of my pride and joy in the institution before- 
mentioned in these pages. 

It is not without the most poignant regret that I have 
learned from too competent authority that the highly- 
connected gentleman in the Foreign Office, who for a long 
time carried on the largest agency and banking job-shop, 
retired recently from the trade, with all the respect which 
is due to a large realized fortune. It is melancholy to relate 
that he is since dead ; because Death, though extensively 
employed by the Foreign Office, is not precisely a British 
diplomatist in a subordinate situation, and therefore required 
his due of the great agent with an exactitude wholly apart 
from the established usage of the office. 

It is some consolation for so severe a loss, however, when 
we reflect that the estimable system of which the great job- 
shop man was so distinguished an ornament, still flourishes 
in all its pristine glory and vigour, and that the commercial 
pursuits in which he so shone continue to exercise the fine 
energies of his surviving colleagues. The Foreign Office, as 
I have said, is the golden home of one of those splendid 
banking establishments which constitute the real solid glory 
of Great Britain. It is the temple of a kind and delicate 
inquisition into the private affairs of its subordinates.* It 

* The only valid objection to this which can be offered by the most 
benighted mind, is surely that the inquiry does not take place previous 
to the appointment instead of afterwards. I can scarcely contain my 
astonishment that the Foreign Office has not added to its beautiful rules 
one requiring every candidate for employment on foreign service to 
engage upon oath to respect the British constitution, and to leave a 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



231 



is the job-sliop of several of the most prudent, accom- 
plished, and thriving traders in this kingdom. The graceful 
zeal with which they give their minds to their mercantile 
pursuits is more than a sufficient guarantee for the far less 
important public interests confided to them ; for all our 
wise men are agreed that any public servant, who gives 
satisfactory evidence of capacity and exact attention in one 
line of business, should be immediately transferred to 
another, according to our immemorial custom. 

The intelligent reader must not suppose that I have been 
wandering away from the battle-fields, while calling upon 
him to contemplate the purity and beauty of those drawing- 
room darlings and despots of the Travellers' Club who con- 
descend to follow Fortune at the Foreign Office. Many of 
the most tremendous of our warlike thunderbolts have been 
forged in this sacred edifice, and exact copies taken of them 
by the jewelled fingers of our fashionable friends during their 
blithe intervals of leisure which have not been occupied in 
pantomimes ; while what Briton will not proudly own 
that the fiercest of our battles have been fought on foolscap 
paper, very hot-pressed indeed ! 

handsome sum always in the hands of his agent. A more highly con- 
nected and proper arrangement than this could hardly be conceived, 
and I ardently trust it may not be considered wholly unworthy the 
attention of my revered friends. 



232 



PICTURES FROM 



CHAPTER LV. 

The Foreign Office List. The author finds a difficulty in expressing his 
admiration of this learned and profound work, but prophesies that 
its author will ultimately take his place among the greatest bene- 
factors of mankind. Fate appears in a dream to Lord John Russell, 
and in a vision to Lord Clarendon, experience having taught her to 
doubt ministerial promises, and solemnly enjoins them to promote 
Mr. Francis W. H. Cavendish. Beautiful legend related by the 
Boy Jones. The author rapturously compares Mr. Francis W. 
H. Cavendish to the greatest French cooks, also to Dr. Johnson, 
but places him in a far higher rank. Touching disinterestedness 
and patriotism oi Mr. Francis W. H. Cavendish. 

Among the most excellent and recent institutions on 
•which I now have to congratulate my country, is undoubt- 
edly the periodical publication of an elegant and correct 
Foreign Office List. Owing to the great poverty of the 
English language, to which I again desire to call the atten- 
tion of grammarians and lexicographers, it is difficult to find 
words to express our proper and genial admiration of this 
profound and learned work. 

Mr. Francis W. H. Cavendish, its gifted and highly con- 
nected author, may fairly lay claim to the lasting reputa- 
tion of a great genius. He will henceforth take rank with 
Hervey, Galileo, Columbus, and other such wonderful men, 
in whom reflection and energy have been equally combined, 
so that they have made discoveries of vast importance and 
utility to the dearest interests of mankind ; who have pushed 
the flight of their adventurous and brilliant thoughts into 
the most mysterious regions of worlds before unknown. 

Mr. Francis W. H. Cavendish is, without a doubt, a much 
superior person to the late Cardinal Richelieu. The priestly 
statesman merely invented the modern system of diplomacy ; 
it remained for Mr. Francis W. H. Cavendish to reveal its 
concealed beauties and interesting natural history. The 
cardinal is, no doubt, uneasy in his grave, — if ghosts feel 
uneasiness, — at beholding, after the lapse of so many years, a 
modern English gentleman start up and seize his honours 
with such a discreet yet vigorous hand. We are bound, 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



233 



however, with all our tenderness for the defunct reputa- 
tion of the cardinal, to confess that Mr. F. W. H. Cavendish 
has done so. This pride of his country, and the Foreign 
Office, informs an attentive world, that although he only 
entered public life " September 24, 1846," his career was 
marked by a success and rapidity which is not always the 
]ot of such transcendent genius. Everything, however, 
prospered with Mr. Francis TV. H. Cavendish. Fate appears 
justly to have made the interests of a great man for once her 
peculiar consideration, and she watched over them with 
perpetual and fostering tenderness. This country should 
feel much obliged to Fate for her most proper conduct on 
the present interesting occasion. 

Promotion, usually so tardy, appeared to have the same 
amiable partiality for Mr. Cavendish as Fate herself. Pro- 
bably not more than seven days (to copy Mr. Cavendish's 
romantic auto-biography in his startling and original book) 
after his appointment at Vienna he was promoted to the 
home establishment at the Foreign Office, and the gates of 
that temple of Fortune were thrown wide open to receive 
him. About seventeen months subsequently, the Foreign 
Office becoming fully aware of the splendour of his genius, 
and the immense value of his services to the country — having 
also a prophetic presentiment that he was shortly to become 
so great and famous — again hastened to gratify a wise impa- 
tience, and promoted him. 

Lord John Pussell also, with a public spirit and sense of 
propriety which will ever entitle him to the most sincere 
respect, now prepared to obey the injunctions of Fate (who 
continued to show herself the same ardent and attached 
friend to Mr. Cavendish as heretofore, and revealed her 
wishes to Lord J ohn in a dream while he was filling, in 
much dignity, the honourable office of warming-pan for Lord 
Clarendon), and Mr. Cavendish at once took place among the 
governing notabilities of this country, as precis writer to his 
lordship, who religiously promised to promote his fortunes. 

Fate, however, having frequently condescended to employ 
herself in the affairs of the British Government, in conse- 
quence of their determined and handsome refusal to admit 
her rival Peason at all into official circles, knew very well 



234 



PICTURES FROM 



how little official promises, made by one minister, are binding 
upon his successor. She therefore appeared also to the 
Earl of Clarendon, floating sublime on a graceful wreath of 
smoke, and her voice was heard chanting a solemn warning 
to his lordship, on the subject of Mr. Francis W. H. Caven- 
dish's advancement in life. 

The boy Jones, who was as usual in an official chimney, 
and to whom the public is entirely indebted for this expla- 
natory and beautiful legend, assures us that she concluded 
her address to her Majesty's principal secretary of state for 
foreign affairs in these remarkable words : — 

But of my displeasure beware, you know, 

If my darling you overlook, 
For he'll write the strange deeds of the great F. 0. 

In a still more wonderful book. 

The rhythm used by Fate on this occasion was unusual, 
and not strictly in accordance with the rules of the poetic 
art. Perhaps, however, she remembered the rooted objection 
of the Foreign Office to literary people, and therefore desired 
to express her contempt of poetry, even while obliged, in her 
spiritual character, to employ it during her intercourse with 
mortals. It was especially remarked by the boy Jones, that 
Fate chanted the last verse of her warnings in so stern and 
emphatic a manner, that Lord Clarendon (believing himself, 
probably, thereby threatened with the immediate anger of 
Mr. Cavendish's highest connections in case of his contu- 
macy) turned pale, and was observed to burn a letter which 
he had just written to one of the most consistent supporters 
of Government. A gratified world, however, now speedily 
learned, through the columns of the daily papers, that the 
injunctions of Fate had been obeyed, and that Mr. Francis 
W. H. Cavendish still enjoys the advantages derived from 
Lord Clarendon's prudent deference to her wishes. 

Some regret naturally arises in all highly connected minds, 
while following the remarkable fortunes of Mr. Francis 
W. H. Cavendish, at his having unaccountably omitted to 
state when his great idea of compiling " The Foreign Office 
List " first dawned upon him. It was scarcely fair to balk 
our reasonable national curiosity about a fact so important to 
the progress of mankind. The history of all great ideas is 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



235 



singularly interesting. We delight to trace the small begin- 
nings, the gradual progress of a vast mind, like that of Mr. 
Francis W. H. Cavendish, towards some glorious and mighty 
end. We like to be present at those dark hours of self-doubting 
and cruel melancholy which now and then throw their 
poisonous shadow over the privacy of the most remarkable 
men. We feel a respectful sympathy with their by-gone 
struggles and the painful throes of their youthful genius, 
while in the pangs of labour ; and we like mentally to hasten 
up and support them with our congratulations in the over- 
whelm in 2f moment of a success which is to make them 
famous to all time. We would not consent to lose Frank- 
lin's own touching account of his sensations when he first 
drew down the lightning, for all Don Quixote's burnt 
books. Our painful sense of loss at Mr. Cavendish's want 
of confidence in us as a sympathizing public, therefore, may 
be better imagined than described. 

We must not allow our regret, however, at Mr. Francis 
W. H. Cavendish's want of appreciation of the feelings of 
the nation towards him, in any respect to diminish our gra- 
titude for his arduous labours, or that wonderful ingenuity 
and success which has enabled him to excel the feat which is 
only fabled of the best French cooks, and not only to create 
something out of nothing, but something great and savoury ! 

We look upon Mr. Cavendish's beautiful work as a far 
more singular production than Dr. Johnson's Dictionary ; for 
whereas Johnson could roam at will over the fertile fields of 
British literature, to seek materials for his second-rate work, 
the first-rate (not to say sublime) compilation of Mr. Francis 
W. H. Cavendish has been made up altogether in the small 
but select circle of the Foreign Office. 

In now taking leave of Mr. Cavendish, with great esteem 
and reverence, it only remains for the British public to 
thank him, through these pages, for his great disinterestedness. 
He bids us observe, that " The fee on issuing a passport is 
seven shillings and sixpence." While he calls our pleased atten- 
tion, however, to the jocular little fact, that his comparatively 
insignificant colleagues charge seven shillings and sixpence for 
so simple a document as a passport, of which the prime cost 
is about half a farthing, Mr. Cavendish modestly leaves it to 



236 



PICTURES FROM 



his capital title-page to instruct us that we may purchase the 
durable happiuess of possessing his own magnificent volume 
for two shillings. Mr. Cavendish also insinuates, with much 
point and delicacy, his great zeal for the public service, by 
informing us that he has ■ voluntarily undertaken the serious 
duties of a deputy-lieutenant, in addition to his other busi- 
ness ; though the British public will not have to learn, at 
this advanced period of its education, that no emoluments of 
a pecuniary nature are attached to that responsible office. 

I have only now to observe, that the extraordinary diplo- 
matic details which appear in the foregoing and following 
pages, are derived almost entirely from Mr. Francis W. H. 
Cavendish's luminous and valuable work. I am therefore, at 
least, bound to acknowledge my deep obligations to his genius 
and research with that becoming modesty and frankness 
which I acquired from his pages, and to add, that I must 
have read those pages indeed in vain, if they had not in- 
structed me in the rare but admirable virtues above-men- 
tioned. 



CHAPTER LYL 

The author advocates the cause of British diplomacy with much warmth 
and right feeling. He expresses his regret at being betrayed into 
tautology while so doing, and again deplores the poverty of the 
English language. He expresses his awe-stricken veneration for the 
glory and antecedents of his excellency Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, 
G.C.B., &c. &c, her Britannic Majesty's extraordinary ambassador 
at the Sublime Porte. He expatiates with much enthusiasm on 
the public services of that excellency. He reveals the nature of 
his excellency's arduous and important duties. He alludes (with 
affectionate feeling) to his excellency's great courtesy, gentleness, 
benevolence, and attention to business, and expresses a poignant 
regret that be has not the bliss of a personal acquaintance with so 
luminous and great a viscount. The author hints at his excellency's 
wise reforms. Exhorts the Turkish, British, and French nations to 
express their delight in his excellency by some public demonstration, 
and finally proposes that several statues shall be erected to his 
excellency's honour on appropriate sites. 

If we now carry our enraptured glance from the dignity and 
amiability which characterize our noble Foreign Office ; if 
we carry the gratified eye of observation on to its depen- 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



237 



clencies, and bid the eye in question rest for a moment on 
the wonders of our diplomacy, what a sudden and insup- 
portable blaze of splendour bursts at once on our enraptured 
sight ! * Its ranks are almost entirely filled with noblemen 
whose ancestors are reported by Mr. Debrett to have arrived 
in Great Britain with no less distinguished a man than 
"William the Conqueror, and immediately to have commenced 
asserting their consequence at the expense of the Britons of 
those times. There is certainly no apparent reason to regard 
this great fact with indecorous doubt. We may subscribe to 
it at once with the firmest conviction of its importance and 
veracity. Our diplomatists almost universally display the 
same loftiness of demeanour and mildness of language which 
were used by the companions of our first gracious Norman 
monarch. They consume the same amount of consequence j 
they require the same amount of public money for their 
aristocratic pleasures and necessities. 

It is a subject not without difficulty to speak of our 
diplomacy after our minds have just been thoroughly ex- 
hausted by contemplating the beauties of the Foreign Office. 
Unhappily the English language is not rich enough to enable 
us to do so without that species of tautology we have ever 
shown ourselves so anxious to avoid. Our national tongue, 
however, does not possess a sufficient number of mellifluous 
and laudatory words to describe the }:>erfections of our 
diplomacy, without using many which have been already 
applied with great force and truth to the parent establish- 
ment in Downing- street. Both are, indeed, manufactories 
of glory on the most magnificent and costly scale. 

At Constantinople, for instance, where the present splen- 
did European conflagration first broke out, is that truly 
great man and valuable citizen, his Excellency the Bight 
Hon. Viscount Stratford de Bedclifle, G.C.B., our former, 
present, and future, highly extraordinary ambassador at the 
Sublime Porte, &c. &c. &c.t 

It is not generally known whether the noble viscount's 

* Vide F. 0. List, p. 12. — It is well worthy the attention of 

fashionable novelists in search of names aristocratic. 

t Vide F. O. List, p. 50, for a very naive and pleasant summary of 
the advantages of family government. 



• 238 



PICTURES FROM 



ancestors came over to Britain with William the Conqueror 
or otherwise. It is certain, however, that he has displayed 
the real Norman nature so perfectly, that it is not improbable 
that William himself may have been the old original Koning, 
Canning, king, from whom our present benevolent and sunny- 
tempered diplomatist is descended. It is proper to mention 
this idea, because the Sultan of Turkey has not unfrequently 
been compared (during his excellency's mission) to that 
chastened and vanquished Harold of the legend, who is 
understood to have taken refuge in a monastery, and to 
have withdrawn himself altogether from fashionable society 
after his defeat. 

It is, I trust, unnecessary to recall to the most hardened 
and cynical reader that his Excellency Viscount Stratford de 
Hedcliffe, G.C.B., &c. &c. &c, has been recently called by the 
general enthusiasm of the country to a place in the house of 
hereditary legislation, in order that a mind so gentle and so 
vast may rule over us for ever through his remotest progeny. 
Our sovereign and the parliament have united to express 
the glowing admiration for this remarkably wise man, by 
conferring upon him the highest honours it was possible to 
bestow. We have added to the magnificence of his power 
as chief of the Turkish nation, by imploring him to become 
the sole representative of our unworthy selves in Turkey 
also. We (that is, the well educated and brought up 
portion of our countrymen) confess with shame and unea- 
siness, how inadequate is our universal homage and respect 
to convey even a small idea of our sense of Lord Stratford's 
public services. We own, with generous delicacy, that such 
a genius is but poorly paid by the few paltry thousands a 
year which he deigns to accept in mark of our fealty, or, 
in short, as a sort of tribute from us, whose affections he has 
so enthralled. We give up in despair the task of finding 
such words as would announce that national joy in Lord 
Stratford, of which we so warmly and reverently partake. 

In whatever light we consider his excellency, he will 
appear to us always as the same extraordinary ambassador, 
and our souls will not cease to marvel at his dazzling perfec- 
tions, though we have not the delight of his acquaintance. 

This far-sighted genius and intelligent man and statesman, 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



239 



though, then, only Mr. Canning (or King), foresaw, as early 
as 1827, the prudent and consistent part which he would, 
probably, one day call upon Great Britain to play in the 
affairs of Turkey.* The battle of Navarino, properly con- 
sidered, is only part of the same lofty and generous policy 
which recently culminated in that of Siuope. In both of 
those engagements did this sagacious and prophetic man 
assist the Russians in destroying the Turkish fleet. The 
only difference is, that the Russians appear to have required 
the aid of British arms at Navarino, while British pens 
alone sufficed to produce Sinope. Therefore is our pride 
and advantage in possessing the services of this progressive 
and celebrated man the greater. 

Then, again, I believe we are all now agreed that the 
temperate and amiable spirit in which he conducted that 
gentle and happy controversy with his rival the Emperor of 
Russia, at last led to the retirement of Prince Menschikoff 
from the diplomatic to return to the military profession, 
and further entitled his lordship the viscount to our un- 
dying honour, by affording us an opportunity of displaying 
those warlike sentiments which we had previously repressed 
with so much labour and difficulty, during forty shameful 
years of inglorious peace. 

While we are thus already well-nigh overwhelmed with 
obligations towards our august and spirited viscount, what 
must be our feelings when we hear daily such delightful 
instances of his benevolence, virtue, and goodness towards 
our humble fellow-countrymen, who have gone to labour in 
the magnificent career of conquest and fame he has opened 
for us in the fabled East ! What shall we not think of that 
able and practical man who, during nearly half a century of 
absolute power, has magically converted Turkey into a 
modern garden of Eden, a fashionable paradise, a moral 
flower-show, to which that of Chiswick, horticulturally 
speaking, is but a feeble and unworthy comparison ! 

Let us shake off, for the credit of our name as Britons and 
countrymen, however unworthy, of his excellency, that un- 
accountable and wicked apathy which has hitherto prevented 



* Vide F. 0. List, p. 51. 



240 



pictures fro:m 



our offering a national testimonial to our great "viscount, and 
which has left him nothing but the homage he receives 
from the Sultan, and the beautiful and solemn figures of his 
" extraordinaries," as tangible monuments of his might and 
main. 

Let us hope, at least, that the allied armies and navies 
will unite with the Turks and the Greeks, in subscribing for 
a few colossal statues of the wonderful man whose efforts have 
been so constant and praiseworthy in so spotless a cause. Let 
the patients of the hospital at Scutari testify to their grati- 
tude and his excellency's glory to the utmost extent of their 
means ; and, lastly, let me venture to express an aspiration 
that the two French ambassadors and one charge d'affaires, 
who have had the misfortune to differ with him, and in- 
curred the unavoidable penalty, should be required by our 
polite allies to attend the ceremony of inaugurating his 
statues and to express their contrition. On this occasion, 
proper feeling will also necessarily require that the penitent 
culprits should be joined by Lord Raglan, Admiral Dundas, 
Admiral Boxer (with a bulldog), General Rose, General 
Williams, Mr. Murray, our minister in Persia, Mr. Smith,* 
and the Greek minister, who have all, at various times, in- 
curred the censure of our luminous viscount. Xavarino, 
Gallipoli, Varna, Sinope, Scutari, Balaklava, would all be 
appropriate sites for statues to his excellency, or perhaps it 
would be in better taste, and more useful for the guidance of 
posterity, if we should erect a statue, and a colossal statue, to 
him in each of these places ; that our children and our 
children's children may trace the wise and conciliatory career 
of our great diplomatist from the commencement to the end, 
and that they may understand, at length, the glorious events 
which have invariably resulted from his negotiations, and 
been fostered by the " lavish wisdom " of his counsels. 

* See the Times and Galignani, April, 1853. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



241 



'CHAPTER LYII. 

The author continues the same ennobling subject, and expresses his 
veneration for General the Earl of Westmoreland, G.C.B., her 
Majesty's extraordinary envoy and powerful minister at Vienna. 
He points out that Lord Westmoreland has embraced the tenets of 
the stoics, and evinces an ardent admiration for this school of 
philosophy. He commends Lord Westmoreland's aristocratic con- 
tempt of common feelings, and praises his lordship's wonderful and 
Brutus-like firmness under trial. The author endeavours to explain 
his lordship's pure and beautiful project for chastening the improper 
spirit of the British nation, and lauds his passionate aspirations 
after fame as a composer of music. He relates how his lordship 
hazarded his place owing to his stoical indifference to his bene- 
factor, and glances at his enlighted opinions on religious subjects. The 
author expresses his respectful concurrence with the sentiments of 
the Emperor of Austria, and recommends the Government to retain 
Lord Westmoreland's chastening services on any terms at Vienna, 
in order that he may at length complete our national reiormation. 

Next in rank among our diplomatists connected with the 
present glorious war, stands that sagacious and dignified 
nobleman. General the Earl of Westmoreland, G.C.B., &c. 
&c. &c. # The official conduct of this truly great and gifted 
man has been throughout so excellent, that it must ever com- 
mand our most awe-stricken veneration and grateful regard. 

In order to secure the public appreciation of this thoroughly 
British statesman and successful negotiator, in order to 
attract towards him the general affection and esteem of 
Britain, it will be only necessary to direct the attention of 
the most radical reader to a few of the prominent events of 
his splendid and useful career. In January. 1851, this 
wise man and great diplomatist was appointed by Lord 
Palmerston as her Majesty's representative at the court of 
Vienna. Lord Palmerston also appointed his son, the Hon. 
Julian Henry Fane,f as a paid attache, on the 14th December, 
in the same year. This was indeed almost his lordship's last 

* Vide F. 0. List, p. 53, for a jaunty and humorous narrative begin- 
ning "When Lord Burghersh entered the army." The style is not 
very clear, but the moral is beautiful. 

f Vide F. 0. List, p. 37. 

B 



242 



PICTURES FROM 



act iu office, for on the 27th of December, that minister who 
had preserved the peace of Europe during so many trials, 
was rashly removed from office. Any other man but Lord 
Westmoreland might have thought that he was under the 
most serious obligations to Lord Palmerston, but Lord 
Westmoreland promptly hastened to show the world how 
much he was superior to mere vulgar prejudices, and stoically 
resolved to appear at a public ball given by Prince Schwart- 
zenburg to celebrate the downfall of his generous friend.* 

He even went farther, and when Prince Schwartzenburg, 
who had been the bitter enemy of Lord Palmerston, died 
suddenly, shortly after these events, Lord Westmoreland 
immediately showed his highbred scorn of common feeling, 
by suffering his name to appear as the composer of a mass on 
the occasion, t 

There were not wanting some ingenious persons who 
pretended to find the conduct of Lord Westmoreland less 
heroic than the rest of the world. They allowed that he had 
indeed sought notoriety as a stoic and a musician, by putting 
his name to the mass in question ; they altogether denied 
him the abler glory of having actually composed it. 

But such vain reasoners must have forgotten that not 
even a British diplomatist could have lived to the age of 
Lord Westmoreland, without being aware that it has been 
judged necessary to the interests of public morality in 
England, that each of us should enjoy the reputation of any 
act performed by his representative. 

Some lachrymose and silly people, who must have desired 
to deprive Lord Westmoreland of the deathless glory he was 
fast acquiring, indeed urged that he might have remained 
neuter. They considered that he might have braved that 
illiberal ridicule which dogs the steps of too enthusiastic 
aspirants to fame, and have at once denied, with all the 
indignation of lingering gratitude, any share in an act which 
was not without its danger. It is not always safe to show a 
liberal contempt of a national religion ; and it is not 
always prudent to appear too high-minded to be influenced 
by the opinions of gentlemen. 

It requires all our respectful feelings for Lord Westmore- 
* Vide Fremden Blatt. f Yide Lloyd, Yienna paper. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



243 



land, however, to understand the real greatness of soul which 
enabled him to turn a deaf ear to these timorous sugges- 
tions. In vain his detractors whispered that it would have 
been better any reputation, as a composer, which his lord- 
ship might have acquired among strangers, should at once 
have been laughed away, rather than that he should have 
ventured on so bold a step as this. In vain they urged such 
arguments as might not have been without a pernicious 
influence on lesser men, and besought him to barter the 
honours of a fictitious notoriety, however splendid, in exchange 
for the security of his post ; or shrink even with loathing 
from the barren vulgarity of fame, and satisfy those feelings 
towards his benefactor which they vainly supposed were not 
yet dead within him. His fortitude remained immoveable. 
His greatness of soul increased with time. He continued to 
perform the onerous duties entrusted to him with a serenity 
and unimpressionable grandeur, worthy of the greatest 
fortunes. 

While the nation his lordship was idly supposed to repre- 
sent, were seized with surprise and indignation at the 
expulsion of the Scotch missionaries from Hungary, the 
forced sale of their little property, and the astounding news 
that they had been sent through all the bitterness of a 
Hungarian winter to their distant homes with sickly wives 
and children in arms, we heard with feelings of joy and pride 
that the British representative had once more shown his 
superiority to circumstances, and that when the missionaries 
had ignorantly requested an interview to state their griev- 
ances, Lord Westmoreland had firmly declined to interrupt 
his music lesson, and received them not. 

It is on record, that no less than sixteen cases of violation 
of the rights of British subjects occurred in Austria, during 
a period of ten months, without disturbing in any way the 
harmonious avocations of his lordship, probably even without 
his knowledge ; for desiring earnestly at this time to read the 
world a fine philosophical lesson on the vanity of state affairs, 
he abandoned his post altogether to an unpaid attache* 

The correspondent of the Daily ]\ r ews was expelled from 

* Vide F. 0. List. p. 49, for an agreeable and carefully written 
article, headed " Russell (of course) Odo William Leopold." 

r2 



244 



PICTURES FROM 



Austria in twenty-four hours. The correspondent of the 
Morning Chronicle (it matters little that both were harmless, 
inoffensive gentlemen) was thrown illegally into gaol ; 
British couriers, carrying despatches, were stopped on the 
highway. One gentleman got into trouble for carrying a 
sketch-book and a pencil ; another was arrested merely 
because he bore a suspicious name ; a third was struck down 
by the sword for listening to a military band in the streets 
of Florence. 

Had a less dignified and stoical minister than Lord West- 
moreland been then at Yienna, he would at once have con- 
vinced the Austrian government that if they persevered in 
such a course of conduct towards British subjects, the matter 
would infallibly come before Parliament, and lead to a serious 
quarrel. In a word, any British diplomatist more trouble- 
some aud ignorant, more rashly servile to common opinions, 
than Lord Westmoreland, might have believed it possible in 
so just a cause to be firm, yet temperate and conciliatory ; 
and that to claim respect was not to offer insult. In a word, 
it is clear, that had merely sensible remonstrance been used 
in the first case, there would never have been a second. But 
the noble earl had far other and loftier views for our benefit. 
He benignantly desired to read us a lesson on patience and 
forbearance, and to conclude with a beautiful practical exhor- 
tation to forgiveness of injuries. It should be a matter of 
national pain and shame to us that we are so refractory in 
digesting the splendid and useful truths which were thus 
impressed upon us. 

It was in consequence of this, probably, that Lord West- 
moreland began to evince his greatness still more clear] v. 

O o u 

With a constancy and purity of mind, to which remote history 
will only be able to do full justice, he determined to wean us 
gradually from the sin of national pride. By a pliable and 
constant submission to every whim of the Austrian govern- 
ment, he at last succeeded in creating the Austrian difiicul ty, 
and transferred a considerable portion of that national vanity 
which had rendered us guilty in his sight to the Austrian 
nation. He judiciously fostered for our further purifica- 
tion that chronic state of delay with which Austria has seen 
fit to frustrate our councils and confound our armies. He has 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



245 



rendered every negotiation at Vienna difficult, and its issue 
disastrous. He has fulfilled the high duties of his mission by 
commencing a system of complete subservience which cannot 
be continued, and will cause ill-will when withdrawn. It 
is to be hoped, therefore, in due time, that we shall be 
sufficiently chastened. 

We are, however, unhappily a stiff-necked generation, and 
there were, not long ago, a few ribald and reprobate people 
who refused to understand the loftiness of Lord Westmore- 
land's patriotism or the greatness of his mind. They un- 
righteously professed a positive scorn of that venerable and 
distinguished nobleman. They banded together and sum- 
moned infamous meetings, where vile speeches were uttered, 
calling for the dismissal of such an inestimable blessing to 
this country. They said, " If that reluctant and contemptu- 
ous pity it was sometimes possible to feel for the greatest 
worthlessness should seek for a moment to calm their hot 
indignation against such a living disgrace to British chivalry ; 
should mercy interpose to mitigate their common anger on 
the plea that Lord Westmoreland's follies (for so, or with 
similar terms, they described the patriotic acts of this pride 
of his country) were merely the inevitable consequences of 
human frailty ; should it be urged in extenuation of his 
offences that his lordship has already arrived at that advanced 
period of human existence when his life can be no longer 
serviceable to any, and is but labour and sorrow to himself ; 
should compassion ask indulgence for the imbecility (!) of 
a very old man :" these fierce enemies to the aristocracy 
asserted that such a plea could not be maintained any better 
than the others which had been already put forth vainly in 
his behalf. They insisted that there are men still older than 
Lord Westmoreland, whose minds show no signs of dotage, 
and "with a classical knowledge, which plainly shows the 
danger of educating the people, they inaptly reminded us 
that Cicero has declared, " Ista senilis stultitia quae deliratio 
appelari solet, senum levium est non omnium." " We cannot 
all consent," they cried with horrid insolence, " to wear powder 
because Lord Westmoreland is grey, nor will we assume that age 
is always silly, merely because an elderly musician is unwise. 

" Were this otherwise," they pursued with fearful anger, 



246 



PICTURES FROM 



u how craven would tlie cry for mercy sound when sent by 
selfish fear so glibly from the official jargon-plastered lips of 
that savage trifler who would show none ; and with what 
marked ill-grace should we listen to it, from him who Lad 
such scant comfort for our pious countrymen, ruined and 
torn from their homes ; for the pale sabred boy at Florence ; 
and for the modest men of letters, who were cast into noisome 
gaols, and banished from the scene of the useful labours by 
which they won their well-earned bread ? What pity shall 
we show to him who had no balm for the deep wounds 
which British honour thus received V 

" And so our judgment, which was suspended while listen- 
ing to the futile excuses of those who have sought to palliate 
such atrocity, grows clear and distinct upon our minds at 
last, and we tremble at its stern and terrible justice. We 
shudder to think that any man should ever have become an 
object at once, so justly abhorred and so despised. He 
appears to us (they cried), in the midst of his horrible antics, 
as one who has done something too bad for human punish- 
ment, so that we shrink from him as from some obscene and 
fearful thing over which Divine wrath is solemnly gathering, 
and pale and awe-stricken bid him bide a little while in peace." 

It is scarcely necessary to call public attention to the 
feelings of disgust, which every well-connected person must 
experience on reading such scandalous stun as this ; and I 
have no fear that, should Lord Westmoreland ever condescend 
to appear again in this country (as he usually does for the 
musical festivities of the London season),* every fashionable 
Briton will rally round him with Debrett's peerage in hand, 
and show his right-minded love of lords, by cheering voci- 
ferously. 

I desire, however, to be among the first to express my en- 
thusiastic admiration of aristocratic diplomacy, as represented 
in his lordship's person, and indignantly to exclaim against 
the unworthy censures of envy and ribaldry. I most en- 
tirely and respectfully agree with the opinions of his Imperial 
Majesty the Emperor of Austria, who has hitherto been the 
only person who has property appreciated the wisdom and 
goodness of the noble earl, and I anxiously trust, that any 
* Vide F. 0. List, p. 41. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



247 



and every government "which may be allowed by the aris- 
tocracy to guide the destinies of this country, will retain for 
us the chastening services of General the Earl of Westmore- 
land, that his lordship may ultimately be able to work our 
complete national reformation, and purify us entirely from 
the sin of pride. 

]STo man, perhaps, has ever freed himself so completely 
from the absurd trammels of conventionality ; and therefore 
as his dignified contemporary, Lord Stratford, will probably 
entirely monopolize the labours of all the most eminent 
sculptors for many years to come, perhaps the British people 
would do well to employ their leisure hours and public holi- 
days in erecting a few pyramids to Lord "Westmoreland. 
One might be raised to him opposite the house of Viscount 
Palmerston, in Piccadilly, parallel with the statue of Lord 
Westmoreland's relation by marriage, the late Field Mar- 
shal the Duke of Wellington. This might be inscribed with 
a few neat lines in contempt of gratitude. Perhaps the fol- 
lowing verse of the late Mr. Bums, poet and exciseman, 
might not also be inappropriate : — 

" A prince can mak' a belted knight, 

A marquis, duke, and a' that, 
But an honest man's aboon his might, 

Gude faith he canna' fa' that, 
And a' that, and a' that ; 
The rank is but the guinea's stamp, 

The man's the gowd for a' that." 

Another pyramid might be becomingly erected on the spot 
where Mr. Mather was cut down at Florence. This should 
be ornamented with a few lively stanzas, written in letters 
of gold, on the importance and advantages of British diplo- 
macy. A third pyramid should be delicately raised at the 
sole expense, or by the unassisted labour, of the Scotch mis- 
sionaries; a fourth by the hands of the travelling public; and 
a fifth by Lord John Russell, in full diplomatic uniform. 

To these objects I trust all well-bred and highly-connected 
individuals will at once contribute, with that judicious 
alacrity, that grateful and respectful liberality, which is due 
to so great an honour of his age and country, as the impor- 
tant personage of whom we now take leave with so dutiful 
and low a bow. 



248 



PICTURES FROM 



CHAPTER LVIII. 

The author refers to the present happy and advantageous state of our 
relations with Prussia. He praises the successful negotiations and 
diplomatic genius of Lord Bloomfield, but does not raise him to the 
same height as the great diplomatists of Constantinople and Vienna. 
The author exults in the gentleness and fitness of our envoy at 
Berlin, endeavours to arouse British gratitude in his favour, and 
trusts that in decency he may be raised, with all convenient speed, 
to the dignity of a stick in waiting. 

Of John Arthur Douglas Bloomfield, Lord Bloomfield, K.C.B. 
her Majesty's extraordinary envoy at the friendly and 
zealous court of Prussia, it is to be deeply regretted that we 
know little.* This diplomatic luminary has not shone out 
upon a benighted world in the same fulness and splendour 
as his more brilliant contemporaries at Constantinople and 
Vienna. He is a planet of lesser magnitude, but never- 
theless of great beauty, brightness, and utilit} r . 

It is probably to John Arthur Douglas that we are 
indebted for the present zealous co-operation and good feeling 
of the Court of Prussia. It is to him that is no doubt 
chiefly due that affectionate warmth of friendship and 
sympathy with our policy, at which we are now called upon 
to rejoice, on the part of our great historical and natural ally, 
the foremost Protestant state of the continent. 

, It is, — it must be, — to his sound practical views, to his 
enlightened and beautiful exposition of our policy in 
German (in which language he acquired the most wonderful 
and astounding proficiency at the Court of the Eegent, to 
say nothing of the Coldstream Guards), that we derive, as 
a matter of course, the numerous advantages we enjoy 
in every way from the Court of Prussia and her depen- 
dencies. 

Now as Mr. Cavendish informs us with touching confi- 
dence that John Arthur Douglas was appointed a page of 

* Vide F. O. List, p. 32, for a short but learned article, headed 
" Bloomfield (John Arthur Douglas Bloomfield), Lord, K.O.B" 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



249 



honour to the Prince Regent, and that he was subsequently a 
lieutenant in the Coldstream Guards; John Arthur Douglas 
was of course precisely the statesman who should have been 
chosen to advocate the interests of Great Britain during this 
awful crisis, at the most learned and difficult court in the 
world. Recent events, of course, unite without exception to 
prove his lordship's admirable fitness for his office. All his 
negotiations have prospered. We continue to receive daily 
the most satisfactory assurances of the cordial amity of 
Prussia. 

It has been stated, on the most polite and highly con- 
nected authority, that no despatch ever left the mission of 
Lord Bloomfield, the calligraphy of which was not unex- 
ceptionable. The i's are all dotted, and the £'s all crossed, 
with mathematical precision. Not a comma, or that peculiarly 
difficult stop, a semicolon, is wanting. His lordship's foolscap 
fits (the official envelopes) with becoming nicety ; and either 
his lordship or his despatches may decorously be submitted 
to her Majesty the Queen at any time, without being re- 
copied. 

But even the important and rare sciences of calligraphy and 
punctuation are not the only arts in which our extraordinary 
envoy at the Court of Berlin is understood to excel. His 
manners are said to possess so graceful and feminine a fascina- 
tion, that recent travellers inform us with bated breath, that 
John Arthur Douglas Bloomfield, Lord Bloomfield, K.C.B., 
is better known at the cordial Court of Prussia by the 
playful and loving soubriquet of " Fanny." 

While we cannot restrain, therefore, our well-merited and 
discreet praise of Lord Bloomfield, I must say, for my part, 
that I think an ungrateful country has hitherto been 
lamentably in error respecting him. John Arthur Douglas ' 
Bloomfield, Lord Bloomfield, was clearly born for far higher 
fortunes than to waste his sweetness at a mere foreign court. 
He should return, to become the chief ornament and delight 
of his own. 

At the Court of our gracious Sovereign, John Arthur 
Douglas might be valuably employed in restoring that 
ancient courtesy and grace of manner which added a lustre 
whilom to the Pavilion and the other palaces of our tailor- 



250 



PICTURES FROM 



prince ; and his lordship might perhaps spare a portion of 
that aristocratic purity for the uses of our vulgar city, 
which he must inevitably have acquired in the Coldstream 
Guards. 

I trust, therefore, the country at large will feel properly 
ashamed that it should have remained for an obscure indivi- 
dual like myself to arouse our admiration of his lordship, and 
to claim for him those public honours which are so justly his 
due. It is to be hoped, for the sake of decency and our 
national character, therefore, that we shall come forward as 
one man, even at this the eleventh hour, and that the press 
and the people will unite to petition the family government, 
" That Ids lordship shall immediately be recalled from Berlin, 
as a post unworthy his well-bred genius, or the splendours of 
his early life ; and that John Arthur Douglas Bloomfield, Lord 
Bloomfield, shall be immediately raised (ivith the thanks of 
Parliament) to the dignity of a Stick in Waiting at the Court 
of St. James's!" 



CHAPTER LIX. 

The Hon. Bligh, her Majesty's extraordinary envoy at Hanover. The 
King of Hanover bestows a cutting reproof on the Russian nation 
by means of an order of knighthood or decoration. Graceful mystery 
and decorum of the Hon. Bligh. He wears the toga of British 
diplomacy. A remarkable traveller sets out for Hanover to see the 
Hon. Bligh. He fails, but discovers an attache, who proves to be 
an ardent student of Zimmerman's celebrated work on " Solitude." 
The unpaid attache is required, in virtue of his office, to remain at 
Hanover, and consoles his loneliness by fishing. Disinterestedness 
of the Hon. Bligh. The author reproves the British nation for 
having taken unfair advantage of the Hon. Bligh's patriotism. 

High on the list of British diplomatic worthies stands the 
name of the Hon. John Duncan Bligh.* He is her Majesty's 
extraordinary envoy at the important little court of Hanover, 
which has recently paid us such a marked and graceful com- 

* Vide F. O. List, p. 32, for a lively and spirited article, beginning 
jauntily, " Was attached to the embassy," &c. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



251 



plhnent by a sharp reproof, conveyed in the shape of an order 
of knighthood or decoration which the King of Hanover has 
just conferred on one of the most prominent of our enemies. 

If anybody had asked the British people, previous to the 
publication of the Foreign Office List, who and what is the 
Hon. John Duncan Bligh, it is highly probable that the 
British people would have been reluctantly compelled to 
declare themselves unacquainted with so splendid a mystery. 

The Hon. Bligh is so warm and consistent a supporter of 
secrecy, that he has even discreetly shrouded his own quali- 
fications for office in the same solemn and awful obscurity 
as the other matters relating to him. He has worn the 
diplomatic toga of darkness with curious and elegant felicity. 

It may be gathered, however, from the masterly summary 
of our ingenious and learned author, Mr. Francis W. H. 
Cavendish, to whom the occult secrets of diplomacy appear 
to have been miraculously unveiled, that the Hon. Bligh 
is one of those fortunate persons who are proverbially 
supposed to have been born with a golden spoon in their 
mouths, as there is no other means of accounting for their 
peculiar success in life. 

In "May, 1828," Mr. Bligh's friends being in power, he 
was made a paid attache ; in "Sept. 1829," he was made a 
secretary of legation; in "Nov. 1830," he was made secre- 
tary of embassy ; he skipped the paltry grade of minister 
resident altogether; and in 1835, the Hon. Bligh blossomed 
forth in full glory as an envoy extraordinary, — and a very 
extraordinay envoy he was, no doubt. 

Being interested in the career of a man apparently so 
well considered in official quarters, I searched diligently for 
further information respecting him, but could find none. 
No person in England appeared to be aware of the smallest 
circumstance connected with the Hon. Bligh. Hansard and 
the British Museum were alike silent about him. The 
fashionable intelligence of the Morning Post never mentioned 
him. The ubiquitous race of queen s messengers could give 
no account of him. They never go to Hanover ; scarcely 
any one ever went to Hanover but Lord Brougham and 
the late Sir George Womb well, who must have made rather 
singular travelling companions. 



252 



pictures from: 



Persisting, however, in our inquiries, in spite of these 
difficulties, we were at last referred by a fortune-teller, or 
cunning-man (who appeared the most proper person to con- 
sult on the occasion), to the mysterious pages of the " British 
Peerage." After searching through them diligently, and 
with a pair of spectacles, which deserve special mention for 
their services on this occasion, we discovered that the Hon. 
Bligh was the obscure brother of one obscure peer, and is 
the uncle of another. The Hon. Bligh, however, remained 
such a mystery, that we still endeavoured laboriously to col- 
lect facts respecting him, and finally were fortunate enough 
to meet with an individual who had been to Hanover. Alas ! 
it was only to experience another disappointment. Not 
even a traveller so remarkable was enabled from the stores 
of his experience to dispel the thick and serviceable obscurity 
which enveloped the Hon. Bligh. He stated, however, that 
becoming excited on the subject of the Hon. Bligh, in the 
same manner as myself, he had taken a voyage of discovery 
with the express object of becoming acquainted with so 
curious an individuality. On his arrival at Hanover, how- 
ever, he learned that Mr. Bligh was not there. He then 
consulted the Foreign Office List, and finding that Mr. Bligh 
was also accredited to the courts of Brunswick and Olden- 
burg, he was fortunate enough to ascertain, by means of 
an excellent guide-book, the precise situation of those 
courts, and proceeded to the courts of Brunswick and 
Oldenburg accordingly. Still, however, the Hon. Bligh 
appeared to vanish before him. The traveller assured us 
that he now began to believe in the Hon. Bligh. The 
invisible diplomatist gradually acquired a strange and far- 
away fascination for him, as though he were a second veiled 
prophet, or a mighty magician, who had, by study of the 
black art, been able to withdraw himself from the gross 
sight of mortal men at pleasure. He drew fancy portraits 
of the Hon. Bligh, seated in great dignity and an uncom- 
fortable uniform, on the sublime summit of £3,400 a year, 
paid quarterly. When he slept, the Hon. Bligh became a 
sort of nightmare to him ; when he woke, the Hon. Bligh 
was a fixed idea in his mind, which would not be pacified 
without further intelligence. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



253 



At last, however, when even the unflinching perseverance 
of our friend gave way, and he despaired of ever beholding 
the Hon. Bligh elsewhere than in his dreams, he 
boldly inquired lor the representative of the British nation 
at Hanover, seeing that he was anxious to go back to the 
haunts of business and drown his disappointment in society 
and the world. He was aware also that our diplomacy is 
everywhere so excellent a thing, that he would certainly be 
subject to some annoyance on the Prussian frontier unless 
his passport was perfectly in order, and as the British repre- 
sentative at Hanover was the only person authorised to put 
the cabalistic words required upon it, my friend necessarily 
made up his mind to waive the formality of an introduction, 
and wait upon the honoured individual (whoever he might 
be) entrusted to perform the unknown duties of the Hon. 
Bligh. 

A courteous laquais de iilace at once conducted the enter- 
prising traveller to a small room over an eating-house. Here 
he saw a pale, shelved attache, who was just going fishing 
somewhere in the town. The attache looked surprised to see 
a traveller who had taken means of diverting himself so ex- 
traordinary as a visit to Hanover. The attache evidently 
had lost the habit of intercourse with his species, but after a 
time he showed an evident disposition to shake off the 
cobwebs which had grown over him, and he talked. His 
conversation was not mirthful ; he told his singular visitor, in 
a hollow voice, " That the late King Ernest, of blessed 
memory, had complained that all the British legation accre- 
dited to his court were accustomed to go away together, and 
that they never came back again till quarter-day, a circum- 
stance which deprived the regal entertainments of several 
gay uniforms. Since then," he added, " the unpaid attache 
had always been required, in virtue of his office, to remain 
and represent the British nation at the Court of Hanover. 
He, the present unpaid attache, had grown grey in represent- 
ing the British nation under these splenetic circumstances. 
He had passed his time chiefly in fishing." 

Having delivered himself of these strange words, which he 
did in an absent manner, as though much unaccustomed to 
public speaking, he now allowed the traveller to depart, and 



254 



PICTURES FROM 



proceeded to fish in an adjoining street, carrying with him 
a small volume which appeared to be his constant com- 
panion. The letters on the binding informed our traveller 
that it was a pocket abridgement of "Zimmerman on 
Solitude." 

The wanderer happening shortly afterwards to speak of 
his unusual voyage in the presence of a third person, who 
was much given to the harassing and inconvenient study 
of figures, this person undertook to cast up the Hon. 
Bligh's accounts, and if he calculated rightly, the Hon. 
Bligh must have never received more than the paltry sum of 
£61,200 (besides, of course, the mere expenses of his staff 
and extraordinaries) for his painful and laborious duties at 
the Court of Hanover. In perfect dismay at a reward so in- 
adequate, and taking the liberty to reprove the British nation 
warmly for having called upon the Hon. Bligh (by a 
feeling which I cannot help characterising as a Quixotic 
sense of patriotism) to make a sacrifice of this magnitude to 
our interests, — I conclude in the utmost indignation and 
amazement. 



CHAPTER LX. 

Lesser stars. The great unknown. Mr. A. C. Magenis, her Britannic 
Majesty's extraordinary envoy at Stockholm. More lights of 
diplomacy. The Hon. W. G. Grey, of course. Her majesty's extra- 
ordinary envoy in Persia. Diplomatic relations with Washington. 
The author comments on the excellent prospects of the war, and 
proposes a delightful entertainment for the aristocracy, to conclude 
in the same manner as the present work, by the popular air of 
Rule Britannia. 

Nothing can exceed, in short, the solemn yet pleasing state 
of our feelings when we reflect on the beautiful and efficient 
state of our diplomacy in all the war countries. At Stock- 
holm, for instance, is a most truly great man and extraordi- 
nary envoy, — Mr. A. C. Magenis is his name.* He is the same 
gentleman and diplomatist who wrote those wise and charm- 



* Yide F. 0. List, p. 44. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



255 



ing despatches, dated from the British embassy at Vienna 
during the Hungarian Revolution and the Austrian troubles 
at the close of the first half of the present century. The 
great knowledge of mankind, the enlightened and liberal 
views, the clear-sighted statesmanship displayed in these 
remarkable despatches, place them probably among the most 
splendid records of British wisdom. Their accuracy of detail 
is as wonderful as the point and beauty of their language ; 
and any person who refers to the blue books of those times 
cannot fail to be surprised and delighted when he contrasts 
the fine clear reasoning, mingled with the acutest observation, 
which forms such a marked characteristic of Mr. A. C. 
Magenis's official correspondence, with the odd, bilious, dis- 
jointed obscurities to be found in the writings of a certain 
Mr. Black we 11, who was employed by the Foreign Office in 
the Austrian States about the same time, though his name 
happily is not to be perceived on running the eye of consul- 
tation down Mr. Cavendish's felicitously-conceived alpha- 
betical list of Foreign Office officials. 

Then, Mr. Magenis has a secretary of legation. His 
name is Grey, of course. The Hon. William George, of 
that ilk. Mr. Cavendish provides for our permanent happi- 
ness and peace of mind with respect to the relations of Great 
Britain with the court of Sweden, by assuring us that the 
Hon. William George Grey was charge d'affaires at Stock- 
holm during the most important part of last year. We are 
deeply grateful, as a nation, to Mr. Cavendish for this im- 
portant and reassuring information. It is impossible duly 
to inspire the reader with the true enthusiasm of joy which 
he should experience, on learning that duties of the utmost 
gravity and delicacy, on the able performance of which the 
future fate of this country may materially depend, have 
been entrusted to this statesmanlike and highly connected 
young gentleman. 

The Hon. William George Grey is advantageously known, 
through the Vienna newspapers, to have been the most 
able and thoroughly musical man of Lord Westmoreland's 
staff. At an age when the first graceful vivacity of youth 
is usually supposed to have subsided, the Hon. William 
George is reported, in the Fremden Blatt of the day, to have 



256 



PICTURES FKOM 



appeared before the inhabitants of the agreeable city of 
Yienna, surrounded by spirits so congenial as the truly 
excellent orchestra of one of the playhouses. 

Independently, however, of so splendid a qualification for 
a high diplomatic post "at an important court, during a war 
which is likely to task the utmost energies and governing 
capacities of his family, the British should not be insensible 
to the improving spectacle of another of this distinguished 
family located in a place ef profit and power. The first 
duty of Great Britain is to provide for the handsome main- 
tenance of the Greys, and it is wholly beneath us, as a 
great and free people, to suffer our interests to form the 
smallest part of our consideration, while reflecting on how 
we can best perform intentions so honourable and inspiriting. 
Joyful as Britons must be, therefore, to see an honourable 
Grey and an accomplished musician at the court of Stock- 
holm, perhaps it would not be ill-timed to suggest that it 
would be only delicate and fair to submit, from time to time, 
a list of vacancies and proposed appointments to Mr. Grey, 
and allow him to choose for himself whenever he should 
desire change of air, or weary of the tameness of Swedish 
life. What would Mr. Grey say to the pleasanter courts of 
Yienna or Paris, for instance 1 or suppose we respectfully 
solicit his musical interference to untangle affairs at merry 
Madrid, 

Again, in Persia, a country from which we have just re- 
ceived such gratifying assurances of friendship and alliance, 
is the Hon. C. A. Murray. Nothing can be more satis- 
factory to the British people than to see the Hon. 
Murray as their extraordinary envoy in Persia, a country 
situated almost on the frontiers of our great Indian empire, 
and immediately adjoining our peaceful and zealous friends, 
the A Afghans. The trifling difficulty which, we learn by 
the papers, oip. Hon. Murray has been so polite as to 
suffer in our cause, at the outset of his expedition, should 
only doubly excite our tenderness and admiration towards 
him. It is with a positive sensation of pleasurable intoxica- 
tion that every Briton should learn that Colonel Bawlinson, 
the soldier diplomatist of Herat and Candahar, who knows 
more about Persia and Cabool than any other individual 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



257 



whatsoever, and who has given the most notable proofs of 
the highest capacity, was never even thought of for this 
post. It is proper for us all to feel delighted at this cir- 
cumstance, because, had Colonel Rawlinson's extraordinary 
special qualifications occasioned his being sent to Persia 
during these troublous times, what would have become of the 
" extraordinary mission" of the Hon. Murray, who gave 
such remarkable proofs of genius whilom as master of her 
Majesty's household and extra groom in waiting to the 
Queen?* The same happy inspiration, however, which 
appears to have suggested the appointment of the Hon. 
Murray has not deserted the Foreign Office on other occa- 
sions, almost equally important. 

Mr. Cavendish's learned work informs us that when 
hostilities first appeared imminent in the East, Mr. Griffith, 
a gentleman who held the position of secretary of legation 
at Athens, and who had lived among the most restless and 
able portion of the Greeks, till his services had grown sin- 
gularly valuable, was promptly transferred to employ those 
qualifications more advantageously at Washington, in the 
"United States. He was not suffered- to remain there, how- 
ever, for immediately we required valuable information about 
Russia and the Greeks, at the seat of war, Mr. Griffith was 
anxiously hurried off to New Granada, to use his previous 
acquirements in Albania, Athens, and Washington, for the 
benefit of Great Britain, and Mr. Lumiey, who had been at 
St. Petersburgh since 1849, was warily put out of the way at 
Washington. Another gentleman, also, whose remarkable 
abilities are understood to have attracted the notice of his 
superiors, and who is believed to have employed the period of 
his official residence at P^tersburgh to the rarest advantage, 
was securely concealed in the obscurity, which is such a grace- 
ful ornament to Mr. Bligh's mission at Hanover. Odo 
William Leopold Russell t was transferred from Paris to Con- 
stantinople, on account of his great attainments in German, and 

* See the romantic and charming article headed " Murray, Hon. 
Charles Augustus, C.B.," in Mr. Cavendish's erudite and agreeable 
little work. 

f Vide F. O. List, p. 49, a neat article headed "Russell, Odo 
William Leopold." 

S 



258 



PICTURES FROM 



immediately placed over the heads of three oriental scholars 
who had been educated for that post at the public expense, 
one of whom had been waiting for promotion since 1841,* 
and the other two since 1845, and who were all three 
remarkable for their great attainments in Turkish. 

It is to the excellency and discretion of these and similar 
arrangements, that we owe the striking efficiency and useful 
character of British diplomacy. 

This is also partly why we have always had such correct 
and valuable information about the war countries, and why 
the affairs of the war generally have prospered exceedingly. 
The Foreign Office has acted, and the British nation has 
danced, to the fiddling of diplomacy ; and we are all, I trust, 
prepared to acknowledge that a more difficult and singular 
dance was never executed before an admiring world by any 
people whatsoever ; and as for Foreign Office gentlemen, 
their harliquinades have been, perhaps, the most spirited 
and beautiful gyrations and evolutions ever chronicled on 
the national records of any country. 

While our embassies abroad are occupied in giving new 
rules to polite society, or acquiring the elegant and delight- 
ful art of the musician ; while our Foreign Office officials are 
devoting their energies to the study of the deepest intri- 
cacies of trade, and their lettered leisure to acting the most 
lively and popular pantomimes; it is but natural that our 
negotiations should prosper everywhere, and that we should 
continue daily to receive the most enlivening and satisfac- 
tory assurances of aid and affection from all parts of the 
world ; and it is but natural that we should constantly have 
presented to us in agreeable variety the most tempting 
chances of honourable peace or successful warfare. In a 
word, our foreign service comprises by far the most valuable 
and thoroughly efficient men in this, or perhaps any other 
kingdom. They take example by Mcecenas, of gentlemanly 
memory, and " wield the destinies of the world with rings on 
their fingers." They have not listened vainly to the legend 
of the Elderly Gentlewoman of Banbury Cross ; and they 
ride a race for honours with bells on their toes. Of course, 



* Tide F. 0. List, pp. 32, 42, and 50. 



THE BATTLE FIELDS. 



259 



therefore, the destinies of the world are wielded vigorously 
and well ; and the race is won amidst the acclamations of a 
multitude enchanted by the harmony of their progress. Each 
highly connected official may proudly exclaim with Cicero, 
" O, fortunatam natam me Consule Eomam ! " 

Let us pause for one moment, however, to contemplate 
what would be the glorious and excited state of the nation 
if the whole strength of the Foreign Office Company should 
ever condescend to assemble together on our shores, and to 
delight us with a series of those entertainments, in the 
getting up of which they so eminently excel. Let us suppose 
that they should accept an engagement for some charitable 
purpose at Drury Lane Theatre, at the close of the present 
season. What joyous plaudits would a highly connected 
British public not bestow on their labours ! Their charitable 
object would be more successfully and completely obtained 
even than on the previous occasion, when that brilliant 
company which enchanted the aristocracy was shorn of 
half its strength. Obsequious thousands would flow into 
the treasury, and all the good society of London would clap its 
hands in ecstasy, to see the whole staff of the Foreign Office 
surpassing themselves in a pantomime, while diplomacy 
efficiently occupied the orchestra, and our consuls, standing 
in full uniform at the door, benignly condescended to receive 
the admission money. The piece selected for the occasion 
might perhaps be appropriately called "Harlequin Patronage, 
or Merry England in 1855." The whole to conclude with 
the popular air of Rule Britannia, sung by the entire strength 
of the company. 



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